


dragonchaser

by Larissa



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larissa/pseuds/Larissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after Omega's ascension, Shera Highwind is brutally murdered and Cid is kidnapped. There's only one person on the planet with a chance of finding him -- but will Vincent be able to prevent Cid from being changed forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. news from civilization.

It wasn’t that Vincent had been avoiding people on purpose. The truth was that he'd come to enjoy the company of quite a few people in the world: his former allies in AVALANCHE, mostly, and even a few others. It was just that he couldn’t trust himself when he kept in one place for too long, and so more often than not he found his feet leading him away with the briefest of excuses. His friends wished he stayed longer and more often, of course, but they understood. It worked for both of them.

Eventually, though, even Vincent found the need to check back in on the world. He needed the time to himself, to collect his thoughts and find enough inner stability to ensure that a visit to a more populated area would go without incident, but he needed to see others as well. It wasn't his fault that he preferred the visits to be fewer and farther between than most of his friends would like.

Nanaki, however, always welcomed him. Since returning to Cosmo Canyon, the guardian had buried himself in the Study of Planet Life, and Vincent was hoping to spend some time in the same pursuit. It had never particularly appealed to him before, but after everything that had happened in his fight with Deepground, it was only prudent. Omega wouldn't wake again any time soon, but it would, one day.

And he would be there to greet it.

\---

Cosmo Canyon had grown since Meteorfall. Nowhere had truly prospered in the wake of the disaster, but as one of the few places without any dependencies on mako energy to begin with, they had weathered the energy crisis better than most. Refugees had come to the canyon in waves, first in search of shelter, then in hopes of a cure for the stigma. Now, they simply came to find a better life.

Dust billowed up in his wake as Vincent climbed the long stair to the city, looking around with some interest at the developments. The stilted houses along the canyon walls were still there, but there were far more than he remembered, even extending down along the stair to the canyon below as if filling every available space. True, the canyon itself could support many, but most of the village's resources were pooled here in the heart, close to the Cosmo Candle. He gave it a passing glance as he continued his way through the village, gliding between the bustling merchant stalls. It was louder than he remembered. With people came commerce, of course, and he could see handmade wares scattered throughout the shops that had sprung up along the path.

The people were happy. It was a good sight, after so much suffering.

Vincent ducked into one of the caverns to get his bearings, frowning behind his cowl as he tried to remember just where the inn was. It had been a long while since he'd stayed in Cosmo Canyon, and though he had every intention of exploring more fully, the past few days' journey had left him unkempt and in need of a good wash. He caught sight of a sign pointing back where he'd come, and when he looked closer found that he'd passed the inn entirely.

Vincent huffed to himself and turned back, keeping to the edges of the crowd and lingering in the shadows. He'd made an art form of going without notice, no matter how bright his cloak and how noticeable his features. The less people saw, the less they bothered him. So intent was he on reaching his destination without interruption that it wasn't until he was almost on top of him that he noticed Nanaki.

"Vincent," the beast said warmly. He had been lying next to the Cosmo Candle but rose at the sight of the gunman. "It has been too long, old friend. Welcome to Cosmo Canyon."

"Nanaki." Vincent gave him a nod and glanced at the inn just past him. Nanaki would want to talk, of course, and though he enjoyed Nanaki's company more than most, Vincent was too weary to engage in a long conversation immediately.

To his relief (and surprise), Nanaki seemed to notice his discomfort, and let out a chuckle. "Please, feel free to get settled." His single eye wandered over Vincent's form, taking in the matted cloak, the dirtied leather. "We have time. You can find me up in the planetarium, when you wish to."

With that, Nanaki padded off, his large paws barely making any sound over the dirt. Vincent hummed in amusement behind his cloak. Time, indeed.

He and Nanaki had all the time in the world.

\---

The stars were painted across the sky by the time Vincent climbed to the top of the village. The cloak still lay across his shoulders, but his steps were looser now that he was away from the people milling down below. Nanaki was the only soul up here, and Vincent found it calming in a way he rarely felt in cities. Cosmo Canyon had been a good choice.

Nanaki greeted him at the door, and before long the two of them were settled in Bugenhagen's old study, Vincent in a comfortable armchair and Nanaki curled up nearby the fire. The canyon nights were cold, he said, and though his fur was thick enough to endure it the fire make it much more pleasant.

Vincent was known for speaking little, but around Nanaki the words came easier, if still not high in number. He complimented the canyon, which Nanaki was happy to talk about at great length. Cosmo Canyon had indeed blossomed since Meteorfall, and though Nanaki himself had not been there to see it all, he had settled down into his role as guardian with great vigor now that he had returned. Nothing, he claimed, would harm the canyon so long as he stood guardian, and Vincent believed it. If anything, it was a welcome sight. So much of the world had lost hope, but if they could capture even a flicker of Cosmo Canyon's bright flame, perhaps it would spread.

When he asked after AVALANCHE, however, Nanaki paused just a few seconds too long. His tail twitched back and forth, a nervous tic Vincent had noticed back during their journey, and he frowned as Nanaki began to speak.

"Cloud and Tifa are well," he said. "As are the children. Barret has been in Edge, these past few months, but is back on the road. Reeve is busy, as always, and Yuffie makes it her job to keep him on his toes when she is not in Wutai." Nanaki paused, tail swishing again. "It is my understanding that they miss you, but understand why you did not stay."

"Hn." That suited Vincent. Reeve had asked him to continue to help the WRO, after the Deepground incident, but Vincent hadn't even considered the offer before declining. The last thing he could do after everything he'd gone through was be around anyone. Time wandering was the only thing that had cleared his head... Vincent frowned. Nanaki had missed someone. "What of Cid?"

For a long moment, Nanaki didn't answer. His eye looked to the hearth, the flames dancing across his sight. "What happened to your phone, Vincent?"

Vincent blinked. That seemed a non sequitur to him. "A monster got the better of it not long after I left. I saw no pressing need to replace it." He would be back when he was back, after all. Someone calling him wouldn't change that.

Nanaki lowered his head onto his paws. "I see. That... would explain it."

He still wouldn't meet Vincent's gaze. The gunman's eyes narrowed, and something twisted low in his stomach. "Nanaki."

"We couldn't reach you. We tried, of course, but no one knew where you were."

"What of Cid?" Vincent asked again, trying to ignore the regret sweeping through him at the thought that he'd missed something, simply because he'd been without a phone--

"Not Cid. Shera." Nanaki let out a low, keening noise -- a sound of regret, Vincent realized -- and finally turned to him. "She was murdered four months ago."

Four months. Vincent did the math in his head; it would have been only a week or two since he'd lost contact with the rest of the world. He swore beneath his breath, his right hand closing into a tight fist.

He had not known Shera Highwind well, but she was someone who didn't shy away from the very sight of him, and that alone made her someone he tolerated. At first he had never understood how she and Cid got along, much less how they had ended up marrying, but Cid seemed happy and that was enough for him. Shera had always asked after him, always offered to let him stay when he was in town, and Vincent had appreciated it in ways he had never been able to voice. So few approached him with such open hospitality that it had left a mark on him.

He closed his eyes for a long moment. Her soul, he prayed, would join with the Lifestream and find peace there. It was all he could hope for.

"What happened?" he asked in soft tones, looking down at Nanaki.

The beast gave another sorrowful sound. "Someone broke into the house. They used-- they used one of Cid's spears. There was so much-- so much blood--"

Vincent reached out, cupping his hand behind Nanaki's jaw, and the beast leaned into the touch gratefully, letting Vincent's gloved fingers stroke through his fur. Nanaki had seen it, Vincent realized. Probably smelled it. It was hard sometimes to remember just how young Nanaki was, no matter how many years he had walked the Planet, and Vincent had just made him relive a memory he had clearly been trying to bury.

Nanaki feared loss, Vincent knew, more than their other companions. He had a long lifespan and would surely see all but Vincent himself grow old and return to the Planet, but never had he expected such a loss to come so soon. No matter how much he steeled himself for the eventuality, the shock must have been devastating.

He said nothing, but he let his fingers trace through the mane along Nanaki's neck, knowing from experience that it soothed him. It was funny, he thought, how he wouldn't know how to soothe another human, but with Nanaki, it came easily. Perhaps it was the beast in him.

It took some time before Nanaki could speak again. Vincent pretended not to hear the roughness in his voice. "Cid was... Cid," Nanaki said, and Vincent understood that all too well. He could imagine how Cid had reacted easily enough. For all his bluster, the times that the pilot got truly angry were a sight he would not wish on anyone. "He and Cloud searched Rocket Town for clues. Reeve helped, as well. They could not find anything. Cid continued looking for weeks, but the trail was cold. He has returned to flying the _Shera_ for the WRO and now lives aboard the ship."

"Mm." Vincent wasn't surprised. Cid was happiest in the air, and Rocket Town would hold nothing but pain for him from now on. As much as he hated the thought, he could commiserate with the pilot. "As is his way."

He had only just arrived, but Vincent knew he couldn't stay in Cosmo Canyon after this. For better or for worse, he considered Cid Highwind a friend, and he had already failed him for missing the past few months. He owed him his support, even if he wasn't sure just what Cid would want. "I will go see him," he said.

Nanaki's tail twitched, and Vincent watched the flame flicker with a slight furrow in his brow. The beast said nothing for a long moment, as if debating whether to speak at all. "You think otherwise."

"...I am not sure," Nanaki began.

Vincent waited.

"He was here delivering cargo, not two weeks ago. Outwardly, he appeared the same as he has been since-- since it happened. But..." His tail swished again. "Vincent, I'm not sure..."

"Speak. I will listen."

Nanaki nodded against his knee. "There is something off about him. Something that does not smell like Cid Highwind, but wears his clothes. I know Cid's scent. This man was different." He lowered his gaze. "I cannot explain it."

Vincent frowned. Someone else might have dismissed it out of hand, perhaps, or simply attributed it to a man deep into grieving and a friend worried. But Nanaki rarely said something unless he thought there was a chance of it. He rubbed behind Nanaki's ear idly. "What _did_ you smell?"

"...Mako."

No wonder Nanaki was worried. Cid bore no mako scent and never had; Vincent had been around him long enough to be sure of that. His frown dipped lower. "You're sure it was him? Not the cargo?"

"The shipment came from Wutai. Just food and supplies."

No chance, then. Vincent let a quiet sigh escape his lips and let his claw bump against Nanaki's head, inviting the beast to lean into it if he wanted. Occasionally, Nanaki would want to be scratched, and during their journey they had found that Vincent's claw did the job better than anyone's hands ever could. Vincent had been a colder man then, lost in the weight of his sins, but Nanaki had never sought anything but the simple comfort. It had taken time for the camaraderie to form between them, but he was glad it had held in the years since.

The beast accepted his touch, turning to let Vincent drag his claw along his back. "Have you told anyone else?"

Nanaki huffed, giving Vincent a one-eyed look over his shoulder. "Would you?"

Vincent gave him a half-smile. He could see the look on Cloud's face already. No, this was something to be dealt with quietly. Vincent had lapsed enough in not being there for his friends; it was time to return the favors they'd given him. "Then I will investigate."

"...Thank you," Nanaki said. "I hope it is nothing."

"As do I, Nanaki." Vincent turned his gaze to the stars spread across the heavens and the faint glow of Omega’s remains. "As do I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vincent and Nanaki's relationship is based on Case of Nanaki, which can be read [here](http://thelifestream.net/novels-novellas/on-the-way-to-a-smile-episodenanaki/).


	2. a farce unraveled.

Vincent was in luck: the _Shera_ was currently in Gongaga resupplying and offering WRO aid to the citizens. Though Gongaga hadn’t relied on pure mako energy since the reactor explosion, they’d still been connected to the Shinra power grid, and when the other reactors went offline they’d lost what electricity they had. In the years since Meteorfall, they’d had to start from scratch with coal from Corel just to get by as they worked to implement alternate sources of energy, and relied on the WRO to ship materials.

Gongaga was a good week’s journey from Cosmo Canyon on foot, given that one had to pass through the soggy marshes and ford the river, but for a man with wings, the trip took a fraction of the time.

Vincent made sure to land clear of any prying eyes, setting down in the thick jungle surrounding the town and letting his wings dissipate. He had spent much of the past few months getting used to the fact that he could use them at all, and though he was sure that no unenhanced humans could see his ethereal wings, he wasn’t about to deal with questions about just how he'd managed to drop out of the sky.

He wouldn't call Chaos a gift, but Vincent had become used to the abilities granted him, and he could accept that some came in handy. He still preferred to walk, when he had the time to spare, as flying drained his energy far more quickly than anything else, but he doubted he would have caught up with the _Shera_ otherwise. And if Nanaki’s suspicions were correct, he would need to call on some of his other abilities to determine just what was going on with Cid.

Vincent hadn’t lied when he told Lucrecia that Chaos had returned to the Planet. He simply hadn’t told her the whole truth. He had stopped the world from ending once, but the Planet wasn’t through with him yet. Chaos’s consciousness was gone, but his powers had remained.

One day, Vincent hoped, Lucrecia would forgive him. But he knew that even she would be long gone when the day came for him to carry out his duty.

\---

The _Shera_ 's makeshift landing pad was full of activity, with WRO engineers, scientists, and soldiers alike hurrying from one place to the next to complete their duties. Vincent kept out of their way as best he could and made his way to the airship's entrance, glancing idly at the WRO soldier on guard duty.

"Oh-- Mr. Valentine, sir! What brings you here?"

Vincent frowned behind his cloak at the address; he had never gotten used to the idea of people paying him any particular respects. He supposed it was better than the diminutives his friends mangled his name into. "Where is the captain?"

"Captain Highwind is aboard the ship, sir! Ah, but we're due to leave in just half an hour--"

Vincent shook his head; it didn't matter to him where he ended up. He moved onto the airship, letting memory guide him around. It was no wonder why this ship was Cid's pride and joy. The WRO's fleet had grown, especially with Cid at the helm, but the _Shera_ was by far the most advanced. It still amazed Vincent sometimes just how far technology had come in his long sleep.

He checked the bridge first, but was told the captain had been working through most of the day and had retired to his room not long ago. Vincent knew the danger of interrupting Cid during a nap -- he'd been on the receiving end on a couple of those tirades himself -- but made his way to the captain's quarters anyway, trying to ignore the way the WRO operatives kept chattering in his wake. Everywhere he went seemed to inspire gossip.

At last he reached Cid's door and knocked, metal knuckles clanging loud in the hall. Vincent didn't need superior hearing to pick up a steady stream of curses within, but remained impassive as he waited for Cid to pull himself together and approach.

"Who the he-- _Vincent?_ " Cid stared at the man outside his door, nearly letting the cigarette fall out of his mouth. "The fuck're you doin' here?"

Cid didn't look well, and that was putting it in the kindest terms Vincent had. From the circles beneath his eyes, it looked as if he’d barely slept in the past week, maybe longer, and he looked filthy enough not to be bathing regularly either. The stench of nicotine and alcohol was so thick that Vincent wasn't sure if it came from Cid, the room, or both. Probably both. He smelled of grease too, and engine oil and tea and all the things that were so uniquely _Cid_ , just as it was supposed to be, but the scent of mako was so strong he could almost taste it. It was masked by everything else, but it was there.

"Can I come in?" he said, calm.

Cid looked at him. Huffed. "The shit's all this. Showin' up outta nowhere when I'm nappin'. Should have you thrown off the ship."

Vincent took that as a yes and slipped past him. Cid muttered another curse under his breath. The room looked more lived in than it had ever been before, as if Cid had moved half his house into one room and given up on the rest. Bits of half-broken machinery were strewn on one half of the room, piles of clothes and other familiarities on the rest, as if to give Cid some comfort and pretend this was his cozy home back on the ground. A few of Cid's old spears were stacked in the corner, with the Venus Gospel mounted on the wall by the window. There was a half-empty carton of cigarettes on the coffee table, with a stack of flavored teas set beside it.

It all looked right, for a man grieving and burying himself in his work, trying to forget. For a moment, Vincent could even believe it. He looked back to Cid and met his eyes, and there was no mako glow. He looked human. Sounded human.

But he felt wrong.

"Where the fuck you been?" Cid demanded. "Fuckin' _hell_ , Valentine, d'ya have any idea how many times we tried to call ya? Too fuckin' busy angstin', weren'tcha?" Cid snorted and gave Vincent a hard look. "You wanna tell me the fuck you're doin' here?"

"I heard about Shera," Vincent said. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Lotta fuckin' good that does. We had you, maybe we coulda found the guy who _did_ it." Cid puffed on his cigarette and turned away. "Got a lotta nerve comin' here."

Vincent said nothing. He could understand why Nanaki had been so hesitant. Without his senses, he wouldn't have picked up on anything. Cid was just as he should be. Somehow, that made it all the stranger.

He concentrated, and sent out a tendril of chaotic energy through the room. There was some form of mako here, but perhaps it wasn't Cid himself -- something he carried on his person, or something on the _Shera_. But everything he sensed pointed straight to Cid himself. His lips dipped into a frown.

"You're not even _listenin'_ to me! Goddammit, Valentine, give me one fuckin' reason why I shouldn't kick your ass right off this--"

"Cid," Vincent interrupted, and it was enough to get the pilot's eyes to meet his. It was more dangerous, but Vincent couldn't let this continue without getting an idea of what was truly going on here. He sent out a larger pulse of chaotic energy, tapping deeper into his abilities to look deep into Cid.

One day, Vincent knew, the world would come to an end, and he would cleanse the Planet of all life as Chaos and guide it to Omega, who would collect it and guide it away from the Planet to a new destiny elsewhere in the universe. As distant as that day was, Vincent still retained those abilities, and he could tap into them to see the inherent chaotic force in each soul. Though he rarely used it, he had control over _all_ chaotic forces, and could at any time bid them to leave their host and come join with him, the master of Chaos itself. In doing so, however, he would keep those souls from joining with the Lifestream, and as such, Vincent preferred to restrict himself to take only the chaotic souls bound to monsters. The end of the world was, he hoped, a long way off.

He could use this ability to simply look and not take, however, and he sent his chaotic pulse through the ship, immediately picking up on all of the lifeforms on board -- all the workers down in the cargo bay, unloading the ship; the pilots getting ready to prepare the ship for takeoff; the engineers checking over the engines one last time -- but nothing in front of him. He sent out another pulse, stronger, picking up the people on the ground, the soldiers, the scientists --

" _Valentine!_ " Cid shoved him in the shoulder, clearly trying to get Vincent to pay attention to him, and Vincent's claw came up, squeezing tight around Cid's forearm. " _Shit_ \-- get the fuck off me, you--"

"What are you?" Vincent hissed, glaring at Cid with slit red eyes.

"I'm gonna be real fuckin' pissed if you don't get yer damn claw outta my arm is what I--"

"I said, _what are you?_ " Vincent pushed him forward, releasing Cid's forearm only to pin him to the wall with his clawed hand spread across his chest. There was nothing there. _Nothing_. Cid had no lifeforce, no chaotic energy, _nothing_ \-- he was a shadow, a lie, a-- _what?_

"The hell are you _talkin'_ about? Get off me! Hey! This ain't funny, Valentine!" Cid wriggled against his grip, hands closing around Vincent's gauntlet to try and force him off, but Vincent held fast, digging the tips of his claws into Cid's chest. "Ow, goddammit! Keep the kinky shit to yourself, fucker! I ain't into this!"

"Shut up." He didn't have time for this. Vincent channeled his energy, focusing not on sending out a wide-range pulse like before but instead on sending one directly into the man, searching for the spell that had made this _thing_ before him. Dark tendrils of energy surrounded his claw, ripping at Cid's flesh, and Vincent pressed harder, gritting his teeth as he tore the spell to pieces. Cid's curses turned to screams as Vincent's claw passed into his chest, but instead of blood, all that seeped out was the green goop of mako. The chaotic energy devoured his flesh, unmaking him from limb to limb as Vincent's talons closed around the solid orb at the center of Cid's chest.

He pulled it free and let the body sink to the ground, his chaotic force making quick work of the rest of it. Vincent opened his claw and stared down at the yellow materia, not needing to send more than a slight pulse to identify it.

A manufactured Clone materia.


	3. dissolution of reality.

A manufactured materia.

Materia hadn't been manufactured since the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company had ruled the world in fact if not in name. It had been commonplace then, available in shops around the globe, the powers of the ancients made easy for the average person to use. The spells were weaker than those held in natural materia, of course, but if they were formed with the right ingredients and knowledge, the difference was negligible.

Since Meteorfall, materia use had grown scarce, even shunned against in some parts of the world. It had been part of the Geostigma scare, at first; materia did nothing to stop the spread, and people believed that the powers of the ancients had abandoned them. So afraid was anyone of angering the planet any further than materia were kept hidden away, locked in chests like the one Cloud kept for AVALANCHE's cache.

This was different. New. Vincent wasn't sure how old; he was hardly all-powerful, and could only get a vague sense of what had formed the materia. But it had been made for a purpose, and Vincent was going to find out what.

Maybe it would have been smarter to interrogate it, but he’d reacted purely on instinct. The clone had felt _wrong_ , like something that never should have walked upon the Planet to begin with, and his chaotic side had called out for it to be torn apart before he could think to stop. Not that he would’ve. That man -- that _thing_ hadn’t been Cid. It had simply worn his form. And he needed to know why.

He'd kept the loss of the "captain" to himself; there was no need to worry the crew. They were happy enough to get him in contact with Reeve, who had agreed to meet him at the _Shera_ 's destination in Junon. The WRO's headquarters had been repaired since the Deepground incident, Vincent knew, but he had heard that they were establishing a larger presence in Junon.

So long as Reeve had someone there who could make sense of this materia, he didn't care where they met.

\---

"....Vincent, if this is true--"

"It's true."

Reeve lowered his face into his hands. Reeve hadn't changed much since he'd last seen him. A couple of extra worry lines, maybe. The amount of work he put into the WRO was astronomical, and Vincent had a feeling that Reeve didn't leave much time for anything else. Not that he really had a place to comment.

"But... if that was never Cid..." Reeve stared down at the materia on his desk. Vincent had to admit it looked innocent enough just sitting there. "Then what-- Vincent, what could have happened to him? Where _is_ he?"

"I don't know."

And that was what had occupied his thoughts since he'd left Gongaga. It was a safe bet to say that Cid had been taken when Shera was killed, if not soon afterwards, and replaced with the clone. Shera could have even been an unfortunate bystander of an altercation between Cid and whoever had decided to take him.

But Cid was the last man Vincent would think to have enemies. True, the man was brash and hardly agreeable at the best of times, but anyone who knew Cid knew he was a good man. He had offered everyone he knew from his days in Shinra a place in the WRO, whether it was in his own ship or another in the fleet. He argued, but held no grudges. Even if he had wronged someone, Vincent couldn’t imagine anyone going to these lengths. Not against _Cid._

Reeve raked a hand back through his hair. He was starting to go gray at his temples, Vincent noticed. "And the materia. That's not the kind of technology Shinra ever had. We've gone through the Deepground files, Hojo's work, everything we could scrape off the Worldwide Network." He saw the way Vincent's eyes narrowed and shook his head. "I'm sure. We've been combing through it for months, with Shelke's help. If Shinra could make an army of cloned warriors, they would have. We both know that."

"Hn." Reeve had a point. Vincent didn't like it any more. "Then who?"

"And _why?_ If we'd known-- we could have been looking for him months ago, instead of--"

"Reeve." Vincent gave a jerk of his head. "There's nothing we can do about it. I'll find him. I need you to look into this materia."

"You'll look--?" Reeve was surprised, and for a moment Vincent wasn't sure why; it made perfect sense to him. He was the only one who had seen the difference; whoever had made this materia clearly had technology past what the WRO could detect. Without any leads, it would be useless to send any more than him. It was Turk thinking, and even if he hadn't worn a suit in over thirty years Vincent's training had come in handy more than once.

Thankfully, Reeve seemed to grasp the situation, and gave a single nod. "Yes. That makes the most sense right now. Our science team is here in Junon right now; I'll get them working on it right away." He picked up the materia, careful not to channel any energy into it lest he set it off. "We're dealing with some fluctuations in the power grid, so it may take a few days, but I'll call you as soon as I have something."

Vincent nodded and turned to leave, then stopped midstride. His lips dipped in a frown. "...Where can I buy a phone?"

\---

Phone technology had apparently taken many great leaps since Vincent's long sleep. He'd been surprised to learn that not only could he retrieve his old number but his old contact list as well, for a minimal fee. Gil was the one thing Vincent had rarely worried about since he started to wander the world; people were willing to pay for valuable monster remains, and he killed far more than most. Monsters themselves tended to carry gil from poor travellers they'd slain, and every now and then, Vincent would happen across a pile of gil someone had simply left lying around. He couldn’t even call it luck, it happened so often.

That said, 400 gil for a room at the Junon Inn was still highway robbery.

He had travelled too far to argue the price, though, and settled comfortably into his room. If nothing else, he wanted privacy to make this call.

It only rang twice before being picked up. "It's been some time," Veld said, and even over the phone Vincent found comfort in hearing his old partner's voice. "I don't suppose this is a social call."

"I need information on anyone working on manufacturing materia."

"You never did ask for much, Valentine." Veld sighed, but Vincent knew he'd have that long-suffering smile on his face. "I'm in Kalm. How long will it take you to get here?"

Vincent paused for a moment. He'd need to hunt on the way, but it was a straight shot to fly there. "Two days."

"I'll send you the address. And don't think you're getting out of having coffee. I _am_ retired."

Vincent smiled to himself. "You drive a hard bargain. I'll see you."

\---

The crew of the _Shera_ was in a predicament. Though no one liked to talk about it openly, they all knew the state their captain was in, and even if he didn't like being pitied, they worried for him. But it was unlike him to spend quite so much time in his cabin -- he needed the sleep, of course, he'd run himself ragged, but surely he would have to emerge _sometime_.

The question was, then, whether or not to bother what might be one of the few chances of rest he'd allowed himself in the past few months so they could get going and risk his wrath. Cid's ire was nothing short of legendary, and in the past few months he had been something to behold. They knew it would pass, in time (or so they hoped, for the sake of their jobs), but it made working under him a terrifying affair.

They had just reached the decision to draw straws on who would risk their livelihood to investigate the captain's quarters when a booming voice interrupted them. "Hey! What're all of ya doin' standin' around? Don't ya know we've got a route to fly here?"

"Captain!" The acting pilot darted away from the controls. "We were just, uh, waiting for you!"

"Well get a move on! We ain't got all day!"

The crew scrambled back to their stations, relieved the captain had pulled himself together. No one had seen him come in from the back of the bridge, having just boarded the ship.

The new Cid clapped his hands together, taking his position at the helm. "Alright! Where we headin'?"


	4. over a cup of coffee.

Vincent hadn't been back to Kalm since that night all those months ago. He hadn't been avoiding it, exactly, he would never admit to _avoiding_ things, his travels simply hadn't taken him in that direction. He'd simply spent more time in the southern half of the world. True, there was a part of him that feared just what a state the city was in after the Deepground attack, but he needn't have bothered. The WRO had done a masterful job of rebuilding, from the outer wall to the cobblestone streets, and if he hadn't been in the thick of it, Vincent might not have known there was an attack at all.

There were signs, though, slight as they were. A couple of dirty children sitting in the alleyway, passerby hurrying past as if they hadn't seen them. Tattered awnings that looked as if bodies had fallen through them -- or worse. Vincent felt something snap beneath his boot and looked down to see a spent shell casing, probably kicked around the streets for months.

And no matter how peaceful the city seemed now, Vincent knew those who had survived the attack would never forget it.

He hummed to himself. They had rebuilt, and started to move on. It was high time he did the same.

\---

The coffeeshop Veld had picked out was tucked down a sidestreet Vincent never would have noticed without directions. The murmur of the city faded behind him as he moved down the cobblestone path with careful, quiet steps. Even so, Veld caught his eye even before he emerged from the shadows, nodding to the seat opposite him. Vincent hummed to himself. Veld’s senses hadn’t dulled.

It was a small café right up against the city wall, with an outdoor patio fitting only a few tables. Vincent nodded to Veld and took the seat indicated, lips quirking behind his cloak at the positioning. The table was tucked in a corner, and Veld had his back against one wall and had directed Vincent against the other, the same way they used to back in the day.

He had seen Veld just once before, not long after the incident with the Sephiroth remnants. Though Vincent had preferred to keep to himself following Meteorfall, he had grudgingly accepted that a few contacts would not go amiss, especially since he now had a phone. While he hadn't cared when Veld had woken him from his slumber in Nibelheim, he had since taken the time to investigate just what the Turks had been up to in his long absence. What he’d found had been surprising, to say the least. No wonder Rufus's Turks had been so different from the organization he remembered.

Still, Veld owed him for the assistance Vincent had given in Nibelheim, and he'd reminded his old partner of the favor when they'd met last. It was time to call it in.

Veld, for his part, was shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. "You still haven't aged a day. I don't think I'll ever get used to it." The years had gotten to Veld, and there were more lines than Vincent remembered, and far more gray streaked through his hair.

"I'm older than you," Vincent reminded him. It was a moot point, these days, but he had a good few months on Veld.

"Ah, yes. Perhaps you’ve finally grown into your personality. You always did act like a stick in the mud." Veld's eyes twinkled at him over his coffee as he raised it to his lips. Vincent realized he had a cup of his own sitting before him. "Go on. You're not leaving until you drink it all."

"Poison doesn't work on me." Vincent's tone was mild. It was an old joke. One of their first shared missions had involved assassinating one of Shinra’s political enemies at a dinner party, and the only way they’d been able to get away with it was by poisoning him at the table. In hindsight, it was a wonder they’d managed to dispose of the body.

"No, but I hope good company will. I would like to see more of you."

"Hn." Vincent hid his own smile against the rim of his cup. Vincent wasn’t the only one with thirty years of regrets -- Veld’s Turk career had cost him dearly while Vincent slept -- but Vincent almost felt as young as he looked again, sitting here with him. Like the way they used to go out after a mission, in the old days.

He didn't really miss being a Turk as much as he missed being _human_ , but he did miss this. "I'll try."

"That's all I ask."

They sat in companionable silence, sipping their coffee. Vincent could see why Veld had picked this place. The server had not bothered them once, and there were few other customers. As far as Turk meetups went, this location was ideal. He'd have to keep it in mind the next time he was in Kalm. "Are you working?" Vincent asked, curious. Veld had claimed to be retired, but he knew the man would never allow himself to keep out of things entirely.

"I try not to. Tseng has things well in hand. The Turks are not what they used to be." Veld looked up the sky, and Vincent followed his gaze, eyes tracing Omega's remains. Even dormant, Chaos felt compelled towards it, felt the need to consume. "Rufus Shinra is not his father. He would have been different, with or without Meteor. I am grateful this is the side of him the world knows."

Vincent made a noise of agreement; that he knew well enough. He had no love lost on the former president, but no matter his tactics, Rufus had changed his ways. The world would never let Shinra regain its power, but it could still become a force for good.

"He does come and see me, now and then. He considers it a gesture of goodwill. It's all politics, but he's trying." Veld sighed. "Many of my Turks report to him now, but he knows that if he crosses them but once, he will lose them. It is enough."

"Mm." Vincent's lips curled. "I'm surprised he hasn't tried to recruit me."

"He did ask if I knew where you were. I told him he had a better chance of hiring that blond friend of yours."

Vincent did chuckle then, imagining the look on Cloud's face at a proposition from Rufus Shinra. He would have to see Veld more often, he thought. He did care for his friends in AVALANCHE, but it was only around Veld that he could really remember what it was like to be human, before he'd become -- well, _this_.

But before that, he had a duty. Vincent drained the rest of his coffee and set the cup aside, giving Veld an expectant nod. "What do you have?"

This time, Veld didn't protest. He knew how Vincent was; the fact that he'd gotten him to lighten up even for a little while was a win in and of itself. "Given the short notice, the only contacts I have are on this continent. There might be someone working on materia down in Mideel, but I couldn't get a Turk down there in time." Vincent shook his head, indicating that was fine. Veld set down a stack of folders. "Four groups. Two in Edge, two in Junon. Some have ties to Shinra, some are independent."

Vincent hummed in his throat and took the folders. "Anything I should know?"

"Nothing stands out. Some of them are just researching alternate energy sources, trying to convert materia into energy without resorting to mako. Others just want to see if we can still use magic without harnessing the Lifestream. Nothing to make them come up on our radar." Veld paused, waiting for Vincent to fill him in. He'd gotten the information without needing a reason; that was simply the Turk way. If he was going to keep helping Vincent, though, he'd have to be in the loop.

Vincent said nothing for a moment, glancing over the files. Veld was right, nothing jumped out at him, but without anything else to go on these researchers were his best bet. "Cid Highwind is missing," he said quietly. "His wife was murdered, and he was replaced with a Clone materia."

"A _clo_ \--" Veld cut himself off; the place was secure, but that was a bit much even for him. Vincent knew the ramifications were running through his head. None were better at infiltration at the Turks, but even they couldn’t impersonate someone the way the Cid clone had. The idea that someone could use a _materia_ for that was, put simply, horrifying. "Understood. I'll have my Turks look into it."

"Keep it discreet. His disappearance is not common knowledge." Vincent didn’t want to think about the kind of technology the kidnapper might have at their disposal, but he didn’t want to tip them off that he was looking for Cid and risk him being moved. Reeve had agreed to contact their friends in AVALANCHE with the news, but agreed that making it public had a chance of alerting the kidnapper.

In hindsight, dissolving the spell had been hasty, but he had no regrets about turning the materia over to Reeve for study. Anything the WRO could tell him about where it came from could help him find Cid.

"You have my word." Veld let out the breath he'd been holding. "And good luck, Valentine. I have a feeling you'll need it."

Vincent gathered the folders under his arm and gave Veld a grim smile as he rose from the table. "So do I."


	5. a hero's welcome.

For once, there were clear skies in Edge. Even with the mako reactors long off, and the waste from the Shinra Building mostly disposed of, the Midgar region was almost always covered in a dreary haze. As if no matter how much the residents worked to rebuild, they could never come out from under the plate's shadow.

Vincent hadn't been to Edge since he'd left Tifa's six months prior, after he'd returned to them following the Deepground incident. Like Kalm, he hadn't been avoiding it as much as he simply didn't want to be around so many people -- and Edge only grew more and more as the days went on. The WRO had set up a permanent garrison here after the incident, Vincent had heard, and with those jobs came more and more settlers.

It was good to see. The people of Edge had suffered far more than anyone else on the planet after Meteorfall, but they had a way of pulling through. Like Kalm, Vincent knew they would be fine.

The one thing he didn't like was how drab the city was. Edge had always been so gray, and even though people were starting to introduce plants back into the area they were slow to take. Even with all his skill at keeping hidden, even Vincent couldn't hide how much his cloak stood out among the crowd.

There were whispers as he passed, but Vincent tuned them out as best he could. His hearing was far better than the average person's, thanks to the mako, but he had no interest in hearing what people were saying about him now. If he actually cared what anyone said about his appearance, he wouldn't wear what he did.

He shifted his pack on his shoulder, glancing up at the nearest street sign. It had been long enough since he had been in Edge that he couldn't quite remember his way around, and he frowned behind his cloak as he tried to recall just which way he'd have to take to get to the first address Veld had given him. He had opted to walk from Kalm rather than fly; it wasn't a long journey, and he didn't want to waste the energy should he run into trouble later. But the hour was growing late, and if he got lost, he'd have to wait until the next morning to speak to someone.

"Hey, mister!"

Vincent ignored the child calling out to him and turned to the right, deciding that any choice was better than none. To his irritation, the child followed him, trailing after him like an unwelcome shadow. "Hey! Come back here!"

He expected the child to give up once he realized Vincent wasn't going to pay him any heed, but he was due for another surprise. The child caught up and ran in front of him, stopping Vincent in his tracks. "It _is_ you! You're the guy who took down all those Deepground soldiers!"

It was the last thing he wanted to deal with, and Vincent tensed, feeling the eyes of all the nearby passerby gravitate towards him. Edge been hit hard, but he had managed to get some civilians to safety; apparently this had been one of them. "Yes," he said finally, red eyes staring down at the child.

"Wow! How'd you beat them all? What's your name? Where've you been? How come you look so beat up?" Vincent raised an eyebrow at that last; sure he’d had to fight some monsters on his way to Edge, but his cloak didn’t look _that_ bad, and his leathers had been in worse shape. In any case, he didn't have time for this, and he moved to brush past the kid. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"I'm busy."

"But you just _got_ here."

There were more people looking now, and Vincent felt an uncomfortable wave of energy beneath their stares, trying to tune out their murmurs. They weren't hostile, just curious, and he didn't begrudge them that, but he never knew what to do when he was put in the spotlight. "Excuse me," he said, and took another step, trying to continue down the road.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" someone asked from the crowd-- a woman. Vincent turned, brow furrowed.

"--I'll be fine."

"Hey, how about something to eat?" A man clapped him on the back, and Vincent found himself being steered towards another street, the crowd parting to let him through. He could break free of the grip without trouble, but he was so surprised that he let the man direct him. "You head down that way a couple blocks 'til you see the bar, tell 'em Marcus sent you, okay? You deserve it."

"I don't need anything--"

"Don't even think about it! She'll set you up on the house. Everybody knows it's 'cause of you those Deepground freaks are gone." There was a murmur from the crowd, and Vincent marveled at them. He had never expected any gratitude for what he'd done; he had been the only one who could help, and he'd done the best he could under the circumstances. The fact that he'd made it through at all was still something of a miracle, regeneration or no.

Still, he could tell this crowd wasn't going to take no for an answer. "All right," he said, and headed down the street, casting another curious glance back at the people. What a strange way to enter a city.

\---

In hindsight, he probably should have expected the bar in question to be Tifa's; there were other establishments in Edge by now, but none were as popular as hers. Vincent almost considered passing by entirely and heading to the inn, but he didn't much want a repeat of earlier; he had had enough crowds for one day. At Tifa's, at least, he would have a room to himself.

It was just past six when he entered, and the bar was packed; hardly anyone noticed Vincent as he slipped inside. He slinked past the customers, darting between crowded tables and the staff Tifa had brought on to deal with the growing evening crowd, and caught sight of the woman herself standing behind the counter.

"Vincent!" She smiled at him with so much warmth that he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such light in one person. Things were going well, he could tell. Tifa could hide her emotions behind smiles like no one else, but when she was truly happy, she glowed. It was far better than seeing her hide her troubles for the sake of her family. "This is a surprise. It's so good to see you again."

"Likewise." Vincent meant it; though he didn't often show it, he liked Tifa. She gave him the space he wanted, but always opened her home to him when he showed up unannounced. That, and she never pried. It was a winning combination in Vincent’s eyes. He cast a glance back out at the bar, seeing more than a few eyes turned back his way. "I'll leave you to your work."

Tifa laughed "The spare bedroom’s all yours. I’ll send Cloud up when he gets home, okay?"

Vincent nodded and slipped into the back, heading silently up the stairs. He made it two feet before a solid weight attached itself to his midsection.

"Vincent!" Marlene grinned up at him. "Cloud didn't say you were coming!"

"He didn't know." Vincent squeezed Marlene's shoulder with his right hand; he didn't mind her, either, but he never quite knew what to do with her. "Hello, Marlene."

Mercifully, she unwrapped her arms from around him and tugged him towards the spare bedroom, chattering all the while -- how long was he staying? Why hadn’t he visited in so long? Did he know how much trouble he was in for staying away?

All Vincent could do was shake his head and follow after her. He had never quite understood what Marlene saw in him, or why she got so excited when he came to visit. Children were a mystery.

\---

Night had fallen over Edge by the time Vincent heard Cloud's heavy boots on the stairs. Though the walls weren't thick, he had managed to tune out most of the noise from the bar up here, and had buried himself in Veld's files, losing himself in methods he hadn't used in over thirty years. If he hadn't been looking for this information, none of these contacts would have stood out to him, either; they didn't appear to be doing anything untoward. He could only hope they would have something for him.

"Enter," Vincent called out when he heard Cloud stop before the door, hand no doubt raised to knock. The swordsman chuckled as he pushed the door open.

"Weird having someone else do that to me," he said. "Good to see you, Vincent."

"Mm." Vincent closed the file he'd been looking through. He wasn’t sure if Reeve had told Cloud and Tifa about the situation yet, but either way he had no intention of bringing Cloud into this. If he needed the help, he knew Cloud wouldn't hesitate to come to his aid, but for now it wasn't necessary.

He looked over the man. Like Tifa, Cloud did seem to be happier than he'd ever seen the troubled young man before. Vincent didn't much care to pry into their personal affairs, but he had a feeling that at least some of that happiness came from each other. He gave Cloud a nod; it was good to see him well, after everything he had suffered through.

"You made quite an entrance," Cloud said, leaning against the desk opposite the bed. Vincent quirked an eyebrow, curious, and Cloud gave him a half-smile. "You wouldn't believe how many of Tifa's customers told me they'd seen the 'hero of the Deepground battle' come in."

Vincent scowled behind his cowl, though he knew it wasn't hiding anything. "Tch. They weren't the first."

"Oh yeah?" Cloud's eyebrows raised in amusement. "Somebody offer to buy you a drink? Place to stay, maybe?"

"...How did you know?"

"Because you're not the only one." Cloud’s lips curled. "There's only so many times we can save the world without people noticing. They're grateful, Vincent. It's not a bad thing. It just means they have someone to thank."

"...Mm." Vincent considered that. He really didn't care one way or the other if people thanked him, but he knew they didn't mean it unkindly. The attention could be a little much, but he was used to feeling that way. This wasn't different. "I suppose."

Cloud shook his head with a faint smile; apparently he wasn't surprised by how Vincent took it. Then again, for all Cloud had changed, Vincent himself rarely did. "We'll catch up later; I need to help Tifa close up. How long are you staying?"

Vincent lifted his shoulder in a shrug. Reeve hadn’t told them yet, then. Vincent wasn’t about to offer the information himself. He had never been the right person for things like that. "A few days. Perhaps more. I can't say."

"You're welcome here. No matter how long."

Cloud nodded and withdrew. Vincent hummed to himself. It was nice to simply be trusted without question. He didn't consider anywhere in the world to be his home, but it was nice to feel like he belonged somewhere.


	6. materiaworks.

If the residents of Edge looked up the next morning, they might have noticed a red-cloaked figure flitting from one building to the next, like some large bird who couldn't quite find a roost it liked. But few looked up, and fewer still caught sight of that wisp of crimson against the gray sky, no matter how much it stood out.

Vincent never had understood why so few people looked up, but it made it much easier to travel around the city -- and with far fewer interruptions.

Though Edge was a city built out of necessity, and thus a result of random sprawl, it was largely split in two halves, following the division between Old Midgar's Sectors 3 and 4. That line formed the main road of the city, all the way out into the wastes, and no matter how far the city spread out from there, everything pointed back to it. Shinra's monument to Meteor -- now rebuilt after its untimely demise at the claws of Bahamut SIN -- formed something of a central spoke.

MateriaWorks, the first group Vincent was investigating, was located along one of those outer spokes, on one of the distant edges of the city. It wasn't hidden by any stretch -- a large sign displayed the name of the organization, and there had been a few markers with directions along the way, once he'd dropped back down to the street. Still, the area was one of the emptier parts of Edge, and it wasn't until Vincent got closer to the building that he realized why.

The sheer number of wires going into the building was far more than any of those surrounding it; they had to be drawing several times the power allotment than any other building on the block. It was doubtful anyone else could afford to live in the area, or that any business could do anything with such a high power drain nearby. Vincent supposed it figured, considering the nature of the work, but he was surprised they were so open about it.

The door was unlocked, and Vincent let his hand rest over the butt of his gun as he slipped inside, just in case. The thrum of magic sent off his senses immediately -- it was like a current in the very air, and he had to put a lid on his own magic with a sharp hiss just to keep from setting something off by accident. He rarely needed to use materia anymore, now that he could utilize the Protomateria's abilities; the nice thing about _being_ the carrier of an ancient materia was that its magic was innate to him. He was glad he'd taken as much time as he had to learn how to control it.

When he could look around, he found that the reception desk was empty, as was the waiting room. He could hear voices somewhere else in the building, but they were too faint to make out from this distance. Vincent frowned and shifted his grip on his gun. For a company that left its door wide open, this seemed strange--

"Ah! Who-- who are you?!"

Vincent turned to see a man come out of a door on the other side of the room; he'd dismissed it as a closet, but apparently it was the bathroom. He let his hand slide off his gun. For once, his paranoia had gotten the best of him. "How'd you get in here?" the man demanded.

"The door was open," Vincent said.

"Oh. Oh-- uh. Right." The man turned to look at it, then back at Vincent; he had a nametag that read _Myles_. "Then that means...?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow.

"You're... here for the tour?" Myles finished. His expression twitched like he was trying to force a smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

Well, it was better than the alternative. "Yes."

"That's, uh, that's great! Let me just, uh, call the guide--" Vincent had a feeling that was the last thing he was doing, but anything was better than dealing with a man who could barely look at him. Honestly, he didn't think he looked that terrifying. He had made sure his clothes were clean before leaving Tifa's, and he'd kept the claw beneath his cloak as much as he could. He sighed internally. Investigations were easier when all he had was a simple blue suit and a gun.

"--yeah, uh, okay. I'll keep him here." Myles hung up and turned to Vincent. "She'll be right here." He swallowed. Vincent pretended not to notice the man was edging away from him.

It was only a few minutes before a woman emerged from the back. She was dark-skinned, her hair done up in a tight bun at the base of her skull, and the look she turned on Myles was nothing sure of _furious_. "I will deal with _you_ later," she said, and looked to Vincent, pausing only for the shortest of moments at his appearance. " _You_ can tell your friends at the WRO that we are _working_ here and we are using _exactly_ the supply we got! Not one bit more! You have no right to come in here and tell us to shut down!"

Vincent stared at her. Unfortunately, that only seemed to spur her on. "Two years we've been at this project! _Two years!_ That's longer than you've even _been_ here in Edge! You don't have the right to shut us down and we're not going to take it! We use less and less of your power every _week_ and if you shut us down we're _never_ going to make any progress!"

"I'm not with the WRO," Vincent said, managing to catch her when she paused for breath.

"Bull _shit!_ You're no different than the last bunch they sent! We aren't going to _stand_ for this!"

"Dr. Evans--" Myles tried to cut in.

"Don't you even start with me, Myles! MateriaWorks has not come this far to be shut down!"

"I don't have time for this," Vincent said. He had just got here and he already felt like he was going to get a headache. "I don't care how much power you're using. I just want to know what you're doing."

That gave Evans pause. "What we're-- you mean you don't know?"

Vincent levelled a glare at her.

"Dr. Evans, I really don't think he's with the WRO," Myles said, a plaintive note in his voice. It also sounded like he was scared for his life, but Evans didn't seem to catch onto that part of it. Instead, she gave Vincent a suspicious look.

"What are you looking for?"

"Someone recently manufactured a materia. I need to know who."

Vincent had been a Turk long enough to know the shock on Evans's face was genuine. " _No one_ can manufacture materia anymore," she said, and drew herself up with pride. "Much less MateriaWorks. What we do is the opposite."

Vincent folded his arms. "Then show me."

\---

It never did change with scientists, Vincent thought. They were all the same. When it came down to it, all they wanted to do was outdo each other, no matter what field. Science was a matter of pride, not technological advancement. Vincent bore the proof of that in the form of his immortal body.

Still, Dr. Tamra Evans was no Hojo. Her company, MateriaWorks, had been working on harnessing the power of materia for the greater good, and had already had some success. The biggest crisis facing the world in the wake of Meteorfall had been energy, and though there were already some fixes in place across the world, everyone was working on something that would take the least from the planet and give the greatest returns.

The genius of MateriaWorks was simple: materia itself already held great energy within it. A Bolt spell, for example, could provide significant amounts of power; it just had to be directed properly. The problem was twofold; the average person couldn't use magic, and materia itself was scarce enough that it couldn't solve a global crisis.

What they sought to do, then, was reverse-engineer materia so that it wouldn't require the presence of a human to cast, but instead could be called at the behest of a machine. It was a challenging proposition, and so far, they hadn't made a lot of progress, but they had a small generator powered by a first-level Bolt spell Evans claimed could run for several days at a time.

"Obviously, if we _could_ manufacture materia, that would make it easier," she said. "That's where we used to work, all of us -- manufacturing materia for Shinra. But do you know how much mako it takes just to manufacture _one_ materia?" She snorted and patted the tiny generator on the table. "It'd take hundreds of these. Thousands. And it'd wear out just as fast."

"Hn." Vincent could see the point. The research had its uses, to be sure, but without a steady supply of materia, it would only last so long.

"So you tell me." She flipped the generator off and turned to him. "Who's out there _manufacturing_ materia? Where the hell are they getting the power?"

Vincent gave her a flat look. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be standing here."

"No, I know that, I mean-- if it's safe to use, do you know what that would mean for us?" There was hope in her eyes now, but to Vincent, too much of it looked like the promise of another scientific breakthrough and the fame that came with it. "If you find them, you have to tell us--"

"We'll see," he cut her off. He didn't want to deal with this. "Don't get your hopes up."

_Scientists_ , he thought. _No matter what they're trying to do, they're all the same._

He left without looking back. He had other leads to follow.


	7. broken strings.

To Vincent's irritation, there was no one at the second address Veld had given him. It was the right place, and according to the locals there were a few scientists who worked there, they were simply out for the day. With both of his leads exhausted and only half the day gone, Vincent had no choice but to return to the Seventh Heaven.

Tifa had always had success with her bar, but she'd kept the same schedule since she'd opened it, no matter how popular it became. Though she had help, she still needed time to herself, and she kept the Seventh Heaven closed until sundown three nights a week so she'd have enough time to care for Marlene and Denzel and to keep everything in working order. The rest of the time, it was full of people, and Vincent knew she didn't give herself much rest aside from the one day a week the bar was closed.

She seemed to like it that way, though. Back after Meteorfall, she'd needed something to do to fill the time, keep her busy. Now, it was a way of life.

Tifa smiled at him from over her shoulder as Vincent slipped inside, setting down the glass she'd been drying off. "Welcome back," she said. "I didn't expect you back this early."

Vincent knew she could tell he was frowning, cloak or no. "Couldn't find what I was looking for."

"Hmm." She turned back to the dishes, setting a stack in the cabinet behind the bar, as Vincent took one of the seats in front of her. He'd learned from experience that he was no good in the kitchen; his claw was useful in battle, but his coordination left something to be desired when it came to handling delicate objects. "So no Cid."

His eyes widened, and Tifa gave him a sad smile. "Reeve called this morning. I... didn't want to believe him at first."

Vincent sighed, letting more of his weight rest against the bar. "I'm sorry."

"Mm." She shook her head; she understood. Vincent had always been a private person; even with a mission like this, it wasn't surprising that he had kept it to himself. She swiped the towel over another glass, setting it beside the sink. "...Were you worried about Cloud?" she asked after a moment.

Vincent's brows furrowed; he hadn't really given thought to it, but now that she'd said it, he could see the reasoning. They all knew just how Cloud felt about his own status as a "clone" of Sephiroth; hearing that there was something out there cloning one of his companions wouldn't bode well for his mental state. Vincent lifted a shoulder in an idle shrug. She could puzzle out the meaning for herself.

Tifa put away the glasses she'd been drying, but instead of picking up the next set, she thumbed the ring she wore. It bore the same wolf emblem Cloud wore on his shoulder pauldron; Vincent knew it held some significance to him. "He's... changed," she said, not meeting his gaze. "For the better. He'll never forget, but..." She let out a quiet sigh and managed to turn a smile back up at Vincent. "I think he can handle it. It'll be okay."

Vincent considered it. Honestly, he trusted Tifa's opinion of Cloud's state more than the man's; Cloud tended to get too lost in his own head, and took on more than he could bear. It was a trait Vincent knew they shared. "Very well."

He slipped off the bar stool, but before he could retire to his borrowed room Tifa called to him. "Thanks, Vincent. It means a lot-- to both of us. If there's anything we can do, just ask." Her lips quirked up. "I mean it."

He managed a half-smile in return. "I will."

\---

Vincent had never entertained his friends' speculation -- or betting pools -- on whether or not he needed to sleep, but the fact was that he did enjoy napping. For him, it was more like meditating, as he never fully lost consciousness, but it was enough to let his mind go for a while and regain his energy. In any case, it was dusk by the time he emerged from his room, deciding he might as well get something to eat so long as he was in a fully stocked bar.

The bar was full of customers again, but one of Tifa's servers pointed him towards the kitchen, and Vincent helped himself to a modest sandwich, surprised when he found a fresh box of apples by the door. He knew Cloud got the supplies for the bar, but where he'd managed to find something that fresh was beyond him.

"They're from the Chocobo Farm." Vincent looked up to see Cloud himself standing in the door to the kitchen, nodding to the apples. "Got them a couple days ago. They're trying to grow them closer, but nothing's taken yet."

"Hmm." Vincent nicked the apple with his claw and started to peel it, not bothering with a knife for something like this. He preferred not to handle food with his claw when he could help it, but sometimes it was useful, and he'd always hated apple skins. "Can anything grow in the wastes?"

Cloud shrugged. "Doubt it. Doesn't mean Reeve's not trying."

Vincent hummed in amusement; Reeve would try just about anything to get their world back in shape, no matter how impossible it seemed. He felt Cloud's eyes on his claw, the swordsman apparently fascinated by the movement, but he ignored it as he finished making his sandwich one-handed. "Thank you for the food."

Cloud waved it off. "Don't mention it. Tifa'd be mad if you didn't eat."

"Mm."

There was a private dining room in the back of the house for the family; they could still hear the bar, but the sound was muffled enough that even Vincent's enhanced hearing picked up less of it. After a moment, Cloud came in with his own plate and shut the door behind him, cutting off even more of the noise.

"We used the thickest walls we could when we built the place," Cloud explained, and Vincent gave him a grateful nod.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Vincent didn't have to look at Cloud to feel the question on the air. "Speak," he said finally; the swordsman's nervous energy was starting to grate on his senses.

"Sorry." Cloud swallowed a bite of his food. "It's-- well. Tifa told me. About the materia." His gloved hand closed into a tight fist. "And Cid. I can't-- I was with him for _weeks_ , Vincent. How did I miss it?"

"Don't blame yourself. It was built to trick all of you."

"But if we'd _known_ \--"

Vincent shook his head. "Even if you did, you could be in the same position. There is no changing the past, Cloud."

Cloud's eyes -- too blue, too bright -- widened, and he turned away, biting into his bottom lip. Vincent took another sip of his drink and softened his tone. "I _will_ find him. You can be sure of that."

"Yeah. I know you will." Cloud heaved a sigh and reached for his own drink, downing a long swig of his beer. Mako burned it off quickly, but Vincent could understand the desire all too well. "What do you have?"

"Reeve is studying the materia. For now, I'm looking for anyone who could have made it. There are a few groups in Edge working with materia; I spoke with one today. MateriaWorks." At Cloud's hopeful look, he shook his head. "They had nothing useful."

"Damn. What about materia fusion? Are you looking into that?"

"Materia fusion?" Vincent frowned. He wasn't familiar with the term.

Cloud scratched the back of his head, something he used to do more during their journey to save the planet than he did these days. "It's... something Shinra used to do, to make materia. The regular ranks only got the standard-issue materia, but SOLDIERs needed more advanced spells. So they'd get access to fused materia and could fuse it themselves."

"...I've never heard of it." Materia itself had been extremely rare in Vincent's day; Shinra had been a weapons company in the beginning, and the materia they manufactured was purely for that end. By the time Vincent woke, the materia AVALANCHE used was either the kind Shinra sold to the public or rare materia they found in mako springs.

"Well, only First class SOLDIERs were allowed to do it. They used the old kind of materia for it, back when they only had one spell each. Shinra didn't figure out how to put more than one spell in a materia until-- later."

Vincent understood, then. It was rare when Cloud spoke of the things he couldn't, _shouldn't_ know as a result of his memory lapse, but it was important when he did. He had spent enough time trying to sort out which was which, after all. "Then, how does it work?"

"Let me try and remember..." Cloud sat back in his chair, frowning. "I know Zack had a device he carried with him that could fuse materia. You could put in two at a time, and an item -- I saw it on the first mission we went on. How did he explain it..." Cloud was quiet for a moment, remembering, and Vincent let him be. For a moment, he wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do; he knew how Cloud felt about this, and he hadn't meant to push him back into memories.

After a moment, however, Cloud let out a laugh and smiled. "Yeah, I remember now. He said something like... you put two in, and whichever materia is stronger, that's what you got. It was the kind of explanation the scientists would have hated him for." He shook his head, chuckling. "But it didn't always happen that way. Sometimes they came out completely different. That's what happened, that time. He put in one of his favorite attack materia and thought it would come back out, but he got a defensive spell instead."

Vincent frowned. "So this Clone materia could have been the result of fusion."

"Yeah, I think it's possible. But the device Zack had -- they stopped using them, once they learned how to make multi-spell materia. They wouldn't have worked with it, and no one's used single-spell materia in years."

"Mm." Vincent knew that was true, but something still seemed off to him. The Clone materia had been a command materia, after all; many command materia were multi-spell, but not all. It was possible it had another spell, but he wasn't an expert. He needed Reeve's results, and soon.

"Anyway," Cloud said, and Vincent knew what he was going to say before it was out of his mouth. "About these scientists. I want to help. I can--"

"No," Vincent said, and raised his gloved hand before Cloud could protest. "This is an investigation. Nothing more." He could see Cloud's arguments in his eyes. " _If_ I need help, I will ask. You have my word."

Cloud frowned, but he accepted that, knowing Vincent would take nothing less. "Fine. But keep us in the loop, okay? We're worried about him too."

Vincent nodded. "I will."


	8. spreading the net.

When the second group of materia researchers wasn't at their lab the next morning, Vincent knew he had to expand his search. He trusted Veld's information, and the researchers in question were known to go out on expeditions to the Midgar ruins, but Vincent wasn't in the mood to sit around and wait for them to turn back up.

He didn't have much more than their names and descriptions to go by, and only one photograph between the three of them, but it was enough. Midgar was a wasteland, and though it was enormous, Vincent had his own ways of finding people.

Besides, he thought, he wasn't a Turk anymore. He didn't have to bother with a stakeout. The only one he answered to was the Planet.

It was good to get out of Edge, even if it meant heading down into Midgar. The chaos in his soul thrived on the constant hum of activity, but Vincent himself preferred the quiet, broken only by the distant hum of machinery and the scratches of monsters over metal. Midgar was infested with monsters, these days, between what had spilled forth from Deepground and those that had made Midgar their home long before the crisis. Cloud had mentioned, once, that Midgar had always had problems with monsters in the slums, but it had gotten worse and worse in the years before Meteorfall to the point that SOLDIERs had to be sent in to clean things up. Without Shinra, and without anyone living there, Midgar had but one ruler now.

It suited Vincent just fine.

He was well in control of his chaotic side, but the Protomateria was no help against Hojo's demons. Vincent had come to an understanding with the Galian Beast, insofar that he let it out when it needed it, and he could retain most of his control in that form. The Death Gigas didn’t have enough conscious thought to be a true threat to him anymore, now that he had dealt with Chaos, but there were still times it emerged, particularly if a fight left Vincent stunned and unable to think.

Hellmasker, however, had always given him the most trouble, and Vincent had finally formed a bargain with it after he and Chaos had become one. He would let the demon run free in controlled spaces, so long as Vincent maintained enough awareness to shift back if he needed to, and the demon could feed off his excess chaotic energy and thus leave him in peace. It meant that Vincent had to keep himself at full power as often as possible, but after years of torment, it was well worth the trade.

He let Chaos's wings emerge from his back as he reached the edge of Midgar and sent out a pulse of chaotic energy, searching for any trace of the researchers. It was faint, but there was something on the far side of the city, near the ruins of Sector 7. It would be enough.

Vincent spread his wings and dove down into the ruins of the slums, letting the change overcome him as he neared the ground. When he reached the bottom, the only sound left was the sharp whirring of a chainsaw.

\---

Occasionally, Vincent's friends had asked him what it was like to play host to a group of demons. He had told them little, and had no interest in changing that, but these days, it really wasn't so bad. Now that he had something of an agreement with each of them -- and considering he _was_ Chaos -- he thought of them less as parasites on his soul and more as symbiotes. He had never _wanted_ them, certainly, but he had long since given up any hope of getting rid of them, and he had made the best of it.

He could almost smile at the thought, if he was the one who had lips. He never would have imagined he would be thinking like this when he'd first emerged from his coffin.

But things had changed since then. _He_ had changed. Certainly, becoming Chaos's avatar had had much to do with it. When he had been nothing but its host, an unwilling body bound to its power, there was little he could do but fight against it, and every time he changed had been at as much internal strife as external. Chaos was more than a demon, he was an entity created by the Planet, and Vincent knew now that he had never stood a chance against it.

_If you can't beat 'em, join 'em._

It was something Cid used to say, and Vincent found his thoughts turning to the pilot. There was no doubt in his mind that he was alive. He _knew_ , as well as he knew himself. One of the few things he could thank Chaos for was the intimate knowledge of just how souls were tied to the Lifestream, and what they felt like when the strings were cut. Wherever he was, Cid was still holding on. He would return to the Lifestream like everything else, and one day Vincent would guide his soul to Omega, but for now, he was still Cid. It was a comforting thought.

But he had not known Shera was gone, and for that he could only blame himself. True, he had never been close to her, but she had mattered to Cid, and that should have been enough. He would have to take greater care, from now on, and keep a tighter hold on all the souls of those in his life. Even if he could do nothing for them, it would comfort those close to them to know that they reached the Lifestream.

Vincent could only feel the barest thrum of his senses while Hellmasker was in control; that was the crux of the arrangement, that he would truly give up as much as he could to the demon so that it could wreak as much havoc as it wanted. But the pulse he had sent out towards the scientists was resonating, and Vincent pushed his consciousness forward, ignoring Hellmasker's irritable protests. The demon always wanted more time, more to kill, but no matter how much of Vincent's chaotic force it had taken, Vincent knew it had grown tired. He pushed again, and felt the haze of energy surround him as Hellmasker sank back, sated.

"Nash, I heard something, I'm telling you--"

A woman's voice. Vincent shook his head to clear it; Hellmasker always fought with no care for its own safety, and even if Vincent didn't suffer from its wounds, it was disorienting.

"Honeybee, it was nothin'. Just another one of them nasties or somethin', alright? Now let's get this done so we can get a move on."

Vincent glanced back at the wake of destruction Hellmasker had caused, impressed that the demon had managed to cut a swathe through the whole of Midgar. He strode towards the voices, but he had only made it two steps when he felt the telltale press of a gun against the back of his skull.

"Hands up. Where I can see them."

Vincent froze. He had to have been more out of it than he realized not to sense the third man behind him. He directed an internal curse in Hellmasker's direction and slowly raised his right hand, spreading his fingers. He paused a moment, but there was no use hiding his claw, and raised it as well.

To his credit, the man only snarled something unfavorable under his breath. Then he called out. "Nash! Bea! Get your weapons and get over here!"

Vincent stood perfectly still as he waited for the other two to show themselves. He couldn't blame the man for being suspicious, Vincent himself would have been the same, but it certainly made things more difficult. A moment later, an elderly man with a hefty javelin and a young woman with an impressive rifle slung over her back appeared over a pile of rubble.

"Well this is something you don't see every day!" The man -- Nash, Vincent guessed -- stared at his claw with some interest, then peered at his eyes. "What've you caught there, Wes?"

"There was a monster tracking us," Wes said, and Vincent felt the gun press harder against his skull. "When I went to deal with it, I found _him_."

"Monsters don't _track_ , Wes," Bea said, giving Vincent a doubtful look. "They just kill."

"He looks the part."

Vincent remained silent. He had learned from experience that saying anything in his defense when it came to altercations like these tended to work against him. People saw what they wanted to see, nothing more. He could overpower the man behind him, and the gun wouldn't harm him, but he would prefer if it didn't come to that.

Nash studied him for a moment more, then -- to Vincent's considerable surprise -- laughed. "You worry too much, kiddo. Y'ever think about askin' what he's doing here? Huh?"

"He was following us! There's nothing to ask!"

"Kiddo, you don't get to be my age without doubtin' your eyesight a few times. So hey, sonny." Vincent realized the old man was talking to him. It never stopped being weird to him when people his age treated him as a child, no matter what he looked like. "You wanna tell us what you're doin' all the way out here _before_ my friend shoots your head off?"

Vincent couldn't help but be reminded of Cid. The man had the same way of speaking as the pilot; maybe they were from the same region. More importantly, though, it was the same kind of thing Cid would do. He was distrustful sometimes, but he never judged someone without hearing them out first. "I was told I could find a group of materia researchers in Edge. You weren't there. I came looking."

"You came... wait, you came all the way out _here?_ " Bea stared at him in flat disbelief, clearly not sure what to make of him. "But how did you ever _find_ us?"

Vincent shrugged minutely. "Followed the monsters."

He sensed Wes's stance falter, and Nash laughed again, a full-bodied thing that reminded Vincent of Cid all over again. "See, kiddo? Told ya. You just gotta _listen_ sometimes." He winked at Vincent. "Nash Tycoon at yer service. You came all this way, least I can do is hear you out."

\---

Apparently, setting off after them had been a good idea. According to Bea, the three of them were often in Midgar for weeks at a time, studying just what materia could still be used now that the Lifestream was in the current state. Bea was a local, she said, but Nash had come from Cosmo Canyon, and used a modified, portable version of their equipment to study the Lifestream's flow.

"It's complicated, see, 'cause we don't know if it's the _mako_ or the materia," Nash said. "But we gotta figure it out. Nobody knows if it's safe to use magic at all." He thumped his chest. "Somebody's gotta do it."

"So you're testing materia," Vincent concluded. They had a chest not unlike the one Cloud kept for AVALANCHE's materia; there were few cases that could safely contain such volatile things as a cache of materia. "What have you found?"

"Mmm, well, we really can't say for sure yet," Nash said, rubbing a broad hand over his chin. He had a thick beard, one he clearly prided, but after some time in Midgar he was in dire need of a trim. "They still work just fine, and they don't set off the Lifestream if we use 'em against monsters. 'S when we're just testing that it gets all funny."

Vincent looked at him, puzzled, and Bea pointed to the machine they had set up near their makeshift campground. "See, we record everything that happens in the Lifestream in this area, but we get fluctuations if we try to use materia outside of battle. It's like the planet doesn't want us using it unless we need it." She shook her head. "But... we _do_ need it. That's why we're here, figuring this out."

"Hn." Vincent couldn't sense anything off about the area, aside from what naturally came from Midgar; even with the reactors out of order, the Lifestream had been unsettled here for years. "What materia do you have?"

"Most of what we have is scavenged from the ruins," Bea explained, showing him her rifle. It had several linked slots of materia, all different colors. "We got into the Shinra building a while back, before Deepground, but they only had a few things left. Everything else we got from the slums. They used to have materia shops down here, you know."

"So you're not making any."

"Making...?" Nash frowned, then stepped forward. "Sonny, do we look like the Shinra to you? We're tryin' to _help_ the planet, not suck the life right back outta it! The last thing we wanna do is _make_ any more materia! It's a damn lucky thing we've found what we have!"

"Sorry." Vincent's tone was flat; he had never been very good at apologies unless they had to do with his sins. "I'm looking for someone who manufactured a materia. Recently."

"Well, it wasn't _us_ ," Bea said, folding her arms across her chest. "And I don't know who it could've been. Nobody's got that kind of power, not to mention the kind of equipment it'd take. You know all the old manufactured materia came straight out of the Shinra building." She jerked her head in the direction of the ruin.

"Mm." Vincent let out a breath and rose to his feet. This had been a waste of time. "Then you can't help me."

"Wha-- hey! You're just going to leave?!"

He glanced back at them. "Do you know who could have done it?"

The three of them exchanged looks. Vincent knew he wasn't going to get anything else out of them, and turned to leave, but a shrill mechanical tone interrupted him. He paused, not sure what it was, and then remembered he hadn't changed his ringtone on his new phone. He scowled behind his cowl and pulled it out, the expression fading when he read the name.

"Reeve."

"Vincent. There's been a development. We've finished analyzing the materia, and..."

Vincent had a feeling he wasn't going to like this. "What is it?"

"There's something you need to see. Where are you? I can send a WRO helicopter to pick you up."

"Midgar."

"Midgar? Why are you-- never mind." Reeve, it seemed, had finally learned that there was no use questioning Vincent's methods. "Can you get to the Plate?"

"Give me an hour."

"I'll meet you in Junon."

Vincent hung up, and ignored the questions the researchers were throwing at his back. In moments, he was gone.


	9. interrogations.

The pilot was hurrying. Vincent had flown from Edge to Junon enough times on his own wings to know that the route took the better part of a day, depending on the weather, but apparently Reeve had demanded that he get there with all haste. He had heard nothing further from the commissioner since the brief call, and it left him with more time than he liked to think.

Edge had been a worthwhile venture, considering he had had no other leads, but ultimately Vincent was just as empty-handed as he had been when he started out. He still had two contacts to review in Junon, but Vincent had his doubts that they would prove to be any more useful than the previous ones if Reeve didn't give him something else to go on. Even if the Midgar researchers had been lying to him -- and he had seen no indication that they were -- he knew no one in Edge had access to enough power to manufacture materia.

That left Junon as the more likely place. Perhaps, if Reeve’s information panned out, Vincent could come that much closer to finding Cid.

\---

Vincent had only managed a few hours of meditation by the time the helicopter landed in Junon, but it was enough. Hellmasker had taken more out of him than he'd planned on, and he needed to recover his strength before he tried to use any of his more complex powers. It was easy enough to feed off of the chaos of a city, and he let a pulse go out as he stepped off the helicopter, feeling the tendrils of chaotic energy sink back into him from afar.

It was raining in Junon, the buildings barely visible under the heavy downpour, and Vincent was grateful when a WRO agent offered him an umbrella. He _liked_ rain, but that didn't mean he liked standing around in it; his claw would rust if it went uncovered for too long, and his cloak took forever to dry. He didn't much care what people thought of the so-called untouchable Vincent Valentine holding an umbrella if it meant avoiding that -- though he thought he saw a flicker of amusement in Reeve's eyes, all the same.

"Vincent," Reeve said warmly, once he'd reached the building. "Thank you for coming so quickly. Sorry about the weather, it's been raining like this all week."

Vincent grunted, knowing the small talk was only for the sake of their audience. There were WRO personnel all over the buildings, mirroring the way the Shinra used to occupy the facilities, though he kept the thought to himself. He knew Reeve had been dealing with enough comparisons lately. Even if he hadn't seen his friends for the past few months, he'd kept himself apprised of the news. The WRO had been accepted as a global power, but no matter how benevolent their aims, no one wanted another Shinra.

"This way," Reeve said, inputting a passcode on a door, and Vincent followed him into a secure wing. The old Shinra base was in the center of the city, he knew, and he had met Reeve there last; the WRO had taken possession of it and was cannibalizing its resources for their own. Reeve, however, was leading him through the air base, and Vincent frowned.

"I know you're eager to learn about what we've found," Reeve said as they reached another locked door, "but we have an unexpected situation on our hands. I'm afraid it'll have to wait."

"What kind of situation?" Vincent asked. He glanced around at their surroundings, crimson eyes narrowing. This looked like a detention center.

They came to a stop in front of a final door, and Reeve paused for a few seconds before opening it. A long window occupied one wall, allowing for a view into an interrogation room. Reeve's silence, his uncertainty -- all of it clicked as he looked at the man sitting there, handcuffed.

It was Cid Highwind.

"The _Shera_ docked yesterday, just as scheduled," Reeve said. Now that they were in the room, Reeve couldn't take his eyes off of Cid, even though it looked like he wanted to stare at anything else. "You can imagine my surprise when he answered our hail."

"Has he said anything?" Vincent asked, his voice low.

"That's just it." Reeve swallowed and turned to Vincent. Vincent didn't need any supernatural abilities to feel the stress leaking off the man. "He-- he keeps insisting it's really him. He says he's real, Vincent. Our scans aren't picking up anything. I ran every test I could think of."

Vincent frowned. "It's not him." There was no doubt in his voice.

"But-- Vincent, you just _arrived_. You can't possibly--"

"I'm sure." Vincent tore his eyes away from the clone to glare at Reeve. "He doesn't have a soul."

He looked back at the clone, feeling Reeve's skeptic gaze on his back. He ignored it. He _was_ sure. There was no soul there, nothing for him to take to the Lifestream. It was another empty shell. But the rest of it was real. The clone was agitated, hands fiddling in the cuffs, as if he didn't know what to do without a cigarette between his fingers. His eyes were bloodshot, sleep-deprived the way Cid would be if he'd been running himself ragged, the way he always did when he was stressed. Between the lack of nicotine and the exhaustion, Vincent was surprised the clone wasn't more upset.

And then came the curses. "Reeve! Hey! _Fucktard!_ Let me outta this box already! I ain't a fuckin' prisoner! When I get my hands on yer little cat I'm gonna stuff him where the sun don't--"

Reeve cut off the microphone for the interrogation room. "He keeps doing that," he said, wiping his hand over his face. He turned his back to the room, finally unable to bear the sight. "I... Vincent, when you told me, I never realized..."

"That it would be this real?" Vincent said quietly.

Reeve looked back at him, stricken, and Vincent sighed. He gave the clone one last look and turned away. "The first clone had months to fool you. You were so used to thinking of him as 'Cid' that when he was gone, it was like a bad dream. It faded. This nightmare is only beginning."

Reeve said nothing. Vincent knew this was hard on him. He could deal with it, he had already dealt with it, but the reality of a clone was too much for most to bear. It was all the more reason he needed to find the one who had made it -- and _soon_. "What are you going to do with it?" he asked presently.

Reeve looked at him like he hadn't thought about it. He probably hadn't, Vincent realized. All Reeve had been able to do was detain the clone and wait for him to get here. "I don't know."

"Mm." Vincent folded his arms and turned back to the glass. The clone had stopped yelling, at least for the moment, and had gone back to fiddling with the handcuffs. "I can destroy it. But I'd like to interrogate him." He tapped his golden claws against his other arm. "I need more information to find the real Cid."

Reeve looked sick. It occurred to Vincent, distantly, that such a thing was probably uncomfortable to think about, clone or not. He had done many interrogations in his day, and he knew full well that this wasn't Cid, but he doubted Reeve had the constitution for this sort of thing. After all, this was a man who sent a robotic cat -- and robotic suits of himself -- into danger, rather than risk himself. "You don't have to watch."

"No, I... I'll remain for now. For Cid's sake."

Vincent shrugged. Reeve would probably regret it, but it was his choice to make. "How do I get in?"

\---

"Vince!"

Vincent tried not to look at the clone as he entered the room. He didn't have any qualms about doing this, but even he had to admit that it was unsettling, hearing Cid's voice and knowing it wasn't him. Still, he had never backed down from something he set his mind to do, and this would be no different. This would bring him closer to the real Cid, wherever he was.

"Vince, you gotta get me outta here," the clone was saying. "Reeve's gone off his fuckin' rocker, man. He locked me up in here soon's I landed, sayin' somethin' about clones and shit like that. Can you believe it?" He laughed, a broken sound that sounded far too real. "Think he's got a coupla screws loose, and I ain’t talkin’ about the robot."

"Mm." Vincent moved no closer to the clone. Instead, he folded his arms and leaned back against the opposite wall, giving him a flat stare. The clone stared back at him, head slowly shaking back and forth.

"Oh no. Ohhh no, don't you go startin' on this shit, man, this ain't funny. I haven't seen you in months and this is the shit you pull? You're gonna believe _Reeve?_ You _know_ what that guy is like!" Vincent raised an eyebrow. “He’s-- well he’s fuckin’ weird, alright? Likes playin’ with his stupid dolls more’n hangin’ with us with flesh and blood! And _you’re_ off your damn rocker to be believin’ him! Not that ya ever were to begin with...”

Vincent said nothing. Silence, he had found, was an excellent tactic in interrogations, especially with talkative subjects. More often than not, they talked themselves into a corner, and all he had to do was box them in.

Still, that last comment bothered him more than the others. The first clone had had months around the others, but this one couldn't have been active for more than a week. "You don't know me."

"The fuck're you goin' on about now? 'Course I know you! Who d'ya think flew yer sorry asses all over the planet back when we were tryin' to stop Sephiroth? Sure wasn't someone else, no matter what Reeve's got you thinkin'."

Vincent lifted his shoulders minutely. He could tell the clone was growing more frustrated, which was exactly what he wanted. People tended to let more slip when they were mad, and he had a feeling that the clone would be the same. "I don't believe you."

"Fuckin' _planet_ , Vince--" Cid broke off into a string of curses, each more colorful than the last but none particularly illuminating. If nothing else, Vincent could admit that the clone played its part well. "You piece of shit. How many times have I saved your sorry ass, huh? You remember that dragon in the North Crater?"

Vincent frowned. Their final journey to confront Sephiroth had been fraught with peril, as the Northern Crater had been filled with the worst monsters any of them had ever faced. One of the most deadly had been a zombified dragon, so lethal that even Vincent, with his demons to call upon, had been beaten to the brink of death. They had only made it through because Cid had managed to slay the beast when it was distracted with its prey. "Yeah, that's fuckin' right," the clone said, seeing the look on Vincent's face. "Not to _mention_ all the times we've been out drinkin'. You gonna tell me I don't remember those either?"

"You can't," Vincent said, his expression darkening. "You're not real."

"No, _you're_ fuckin' crazy! I'm _real_ , goddammit! Now let me outta here and let's talk about this like civilized human beings!"

To Vincent's alarm, there was a note of true fear in the clone's voice. Whether he was afraid of his ruse coming undone, or simply of being kept like this, Vincent couldn't tell, but either way it unsettled him to the core. He looked away from the clone, taking a few paces over to the mirrored window. He could feel Reeve on the other side, anxious and stressed but holding on for now. He had more strength than Vincent gave him credit.

"Tell me your route," Vincent said abruptly, not turning. He could see the clone's reflection in the glass.

"Huh?"

"Your route. For the _Shera_."

Cid closed one eye, looking up at the ceiling. "Came here from Mideel," he said. "Had a stop in Wutai, 'fore that. Junon, 'bout a week back. What, you want me to go through my whole schedule?"

"What about Gongaga?" Vincent pressed. For the first time, the clone looked puzzled, not angry.

"The jungle? Haven't been there in a month. Had a pickup there right before we hit Cosmo Canyon last, maybe four weeks ago."

It was impossible, but then, talking to a clone of one of his companions was just as impossible, and this was the second time Vincent had done it in the space of a week. Somehow, this clone had the same memories as the first, except for the last stop it had made, where Vincent had dissolved its spell. And, loath as he was to admit it, the clone had somehow absorbed something of Cid's memories. There was the chance it had simply been given extensive information on Cid's background and history with AVALANCHE, but he played the part too well. He _believed_ it.

Vincent turned from the window and unfolded his arms. He gazed down at his claw, idly opening and closing his talons. He wasn't sure if Reeve was recording this, and he didn’t want to show more than he had to, but... it didn't matter. He had dissolved the first spell easily enough; he could do the same for this one.

"Vince?"

"Lean back," Vincent instructed, and though he sensed a tremor of fear running through the clone, it obeyed. Vincent moved forward, slashing the handcuffs in two with a sharp burst of chaotic force, unmaking the metal as if it had never existed. To Reeve, it would simply look as if he'd slashed them apart.

"Vincent--!" the voice came over the intercom, as he knew it would, and Vincent shook his head. 

He took the front of Cid's shirt in his right hand, and with more strength than he knew the pilot expected, he slammed him flat on his back against the table. He kept him there with his arm pinned against his shoulders as his claw spread over his chest, the tips of his talons digging into his flesh. The clone struggled beneath him, but he was no match.

"This is the second time I have done this," Vincent said, coldly. "It was in Gongaga, a week ago. Another Cid looked at me with the same empty eyes and told me he was the man I knew." He let his chaotic force wrap around his claw, dark tendrils of energy swathing it as Vincent glared at the man beneath him. "I will give you one chance. _Where is he?_ "

"Vince-- _Vince_ , c'mon, you're making a mis--"

Vincent shoved his talons in the clone's chest, and the clone screamed as mako bled from his wounds, writhing against the table. Vincent held him in place, not yet unmaking him. He would listen to him scream as long as he had to, if it gave him the slightest clue to Cid's whereabouts. " _Tell me_."

The clone gasped for breath as Vincent's talons plunged deeper, and Vincent knew it could feel what wretched excuse it had for a life being torn away. He expected it to beg, to plead, to try and lie to him -- but instead it _laughed_ , a sick, horrible noise that sounded foreign on Cid's lips. "Don’t matter if I tell ya," the clone choked out, blue eyes glittering through the pain, "You ain’t gonna save him from the dragon."

Vincent tightened his grip, and his chaotic force responded instinctively, ripping the spell apart without remorse. Even the clone's screams were torn from it as Vincent shredded the body, consuming every last piece of it in his chaotic energy. He would never let any of this reach the lifestream. It was barely fit to feed his demons.

When the dark coils of energy unwound from him, all that remained was a single yellow materia.

\---

Vincent wasn't sure how long it was before Reeve opened the door. He'd been standing there for a while himself, collecting his chaotic force back into his body; even if the physical manifestations had dissipated, it always took him a while to pull all of the pulses he'd instinctively sent out back into himself. Chaos sought chaos, and unless he was in a deserted area, there was usually more of it around.

Reeve dropped into the chair opposite Vincent, a thin file in his hand. Vincent raised an eyebrow and waited. "Our findings on the materia you provided," Reeve supplied, and Vincent grunted, setting down the second materia in the center of the table. "I thought you'd like to hear it."

Vincent nodded towards the materia between them. "You're not going to ask?"

Reeve gave him a level look. "Would you answer?"

"No."

"Then I won't bother."

"Hn." Vincent appreciated that. Reeve had seen the whole thing, had seen him use abilities far beyond anything Vincent had ever let _any_ human see, but they weren't for him to know about. He supposed this was what it meant to have someone who trusted his judgment. "...Thanks."

Reeve's expression was grim. "Don't make me regret it."

He flipped open the file without another word on the subject. "As you suspected, it's a manufactured Clone materia. The first one wasn't more than a year old; we couldn't determine the exact date, or who made it, but it's not unlike Shinra's formulas. It's a unique design, but whoever made it has Shinra training. Of course, that's to be expected." Vincent nodded; no one else had ever successfully manufactured materia. The energy resources required were astronomical, and only Shinra had mako. "It's a single-spell command materia. It has to be used on an existing person, but the clone it makes... it's a perfect copy, Vincent. You saw it for yourself. It even had Cid's memories."

A chilling thought occurred to Vincent. "Could his abilities have transferred, as well? Did the first clone fight like Cid?"

Reeve frowned. "You'd have to ask Cloud, he's the one who spent the most time with him, but I would imagine so." His eyes widened as he caught on to Vincent's line of thinking. "You can't mean--"

"I do. Where is the materia now?"

"I have it." There was a bitter look in Reeve's eyes as he withdrew a second yellow materia from his pocket. "I didn't trust anyone else with it."

He placed it on the table beside the first, and Vincent held out his left hand, summoning his chaotic energy once more. No matter what clues they could get from these materia, they were too dangerous to keep even for study. If they were used again on someone else -- someone like _him_ , or on Cloud -- the results would be catastrophic. He couldn't take that risk, not even for Cid.

Vincent focused his power, forming a sphere of pure chaos beneath his claw. He knew the table was warping beneath the force, but he focused only on the materia, forming a barrier around them to keep their magic from spreading as he unmade them. Unmaking materia was far easier than manufacturing it; the lifeblood of the planet _wanted_ to return to the Lifestream, and he had only to dissolve the crystal shell to free the encapsulated spells, bidding them back to the planet where they belonged. This was an ability only the planet should have, not mere mortals.

He let the energy fizzle out on its own, leaving a low hum of magic in the air. Vincent didn't need to see his reflection to know his hair had gone staticky; it was an unfortunate side effect. The table, too, had been a casualty; there was a large hole in the center. "...Sorry about the table," he said after a moment.

Reeve made an attempt at closing his mouth. It only lasted for a couple of seconds before it fell open again. Vincent withdrew his hand, settling back into the chair, and waited. "You still have Chaos," Reeve said at long last.

Vincent said nothing. There was no point in denying it, even if he didn't quite have it right. He had no intentions of explaining the intricacies of his condition to anyone, and if nothing else, Reeve seemed to grasp that from his silence.

Instead he asked, "Why did you lie?"

"It is a burden I would prefer to bear alone."

Reeve looked away. "Even after all this, you can't trust us."

Vincent's brows furrowed. There were things he _needed_ to keep from them, certainly, but he had grown to trust the rest of AVALANCHE more than he had ever expected to. They were a strange crew, but they had proven, over time, that they would come to his aid at any time, if he only asked, and he would do the same for them. This was just... different.

"I trust you," Vincent said finally. "Chaos does not."

That was the only way he could put it. He would long outlive all those he knew now, and no matter how much his human side cared for them, nothing could get in the way of his duty to the planet. When the time came, he would be needed. Having his friends think he had already gone made things simpler in the meantime.

"No, I guess he wouldn't." Reeve sighed and turned back to his files. "Well. That explains why you figured out Cid... wasn't Cid. Under the circumstances, I suppose I can't hold it against you."

"Mm." He could not apologize, and would not; no matter how betrayed Reeve might feel by the lie, it was not one Vincent would take back. There was little they could do but move forward. "About the materia. Was there anything else?"

"Ah, right." Reeve flipped through a few more pages. "Our researchers think it might have been a fused materia, though we couldn't tell what the source materia were. ...You don't look surprised."

Vincent scowled. "Cloud mentioned it was a possibility."

Reeve looked puzzled but didn't press it. "I'm sorry, Vincent. That's all we have."

"It's progress."

He held out his hand, and Reeve passed over the file with a moment's hesitation. "Vincent... it bothers me what the clone said, about a dragon. What do you think it meant?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."


	10. fissure.

Vincent never quite knew what to make of Junon. In his day, it had been a small fishing village and port of little note; now, it was one of the largest and most important military installations in the world. The first time he'd even seen the Shinra base, he had had to ask what exactly it _was_. The idea that a city could be made of so much metal was completely foreign to him, no matter what he had heard of the plans for the Plate above Midgar's villages in his day.

But it was thirty years later, and Junon was a different place. The water was still polluted, though less so than it was when the reactor was still powered, and most people still lived up in the base rather than down in the village, preferring the comfort and security its metal walls provided no matter what troubles it endured. Junon had depended utterly on the mako reactor for power, and much of the oil reserves Barret's teams had found in the past few years had been redirected here in order to power Junon's factories. With Midgar in ruins, and Edge still a young settlement, Junon was the only real remainder of Shinra's technological advancements, and the WRO had made good use of them.

It made sense, then, for materia research to spring up here. According to Veld's notes, a group called Fissure had sprung up in Junon within the past year with the same basic goals as MateriaWorks — they sought to augment the city's power needs with materia. Instead of using spells, though, they had turned to materia fusion, and right now, they were the best lead Vincent had.

This time, Reeve had sent a WRO agent along with him, under the guise of an inspector. Vincent himself could inspect the place fine, but if this was the place where Cid was being kept, it would be much easier to gain access in the company of an uniformed WRO operative on the job. His experience in Edge had shown that much.

As such, he let the agent take point as they reached the building. Fissure was located on the uppermost level of Junon, supposedly in order to have better access to the windmills recently installed over the cliffs. Like MateriaWorks, the building had wires attached to it from all sides, and he had to grit his teeth as he felt the thrum of electricity. He could only hope the interior wasn't as intense.

He nodded to the agent, and she knocked on the door, flashing her WRO badge to the assistant who answered. "Good morning," she said, giving him a professional smile. "I'm Agent Foley, and this is my associate, Mr. Valentine. We're here on a routine WRO inspection. Could we come in, please?"

The assistant looked unnerved at the sight of Vincent, but there wasn't much he could do in the face of a WRO agent. "I— I guess," he said, pulling the door open to let them in. "Is there a problem?"

"Not at all," Agent Foley said smoothly. "We're simply looking into some of the power issues around the city. We'd like to examine your equipment and get an idea of the work you're doing. Would that be all right?"

The agent's smile was positively disarming. Reeve had assured him that Agent Foley was one of his best, and Vincent was already impressed. He had never been good with people, even when he was a Turk. He'd just used the suit and the gun to intimidate people. The assistant looked back and forth between them, uncertain, but at another smile from Foley, he nodded and led them down a hallway.

"Uh, well, this is Fissure," he said. "We're working on materia fusion. Not to make materia, really, 'cause we don't need it, but for the energy output. It's all Dr. Goff's idea." He swallowed nervously and opened the door at the end of the hall. "These are the fusion devices."

Vincent strode forward, sending out a faint pulse of chaotic energy into the room. There was a materia chest sitting open on the table between two devices set into the wall, though no materia were equipped at the moment. He reached in, picking up a materia to double-check, but his pulse had been correct — none of the materia in the room were particularly strong, and there were no Command materia. Most were low-level elemental spells.

"Um, I can't demonstrate unless Dr. Goff says I can," the assistant said feebly, and Vincent looked back to Foley with a shake of his head. She beamed at the assistant.

"That won't be necessary. Why don't you show us to the good doctor? Mr. Valentine has a few routine questions for him."

"Uh, y-yes, ma'am." The assistant turned on his heel and scampered down the next hallway. Vincent thought he caught a smirk on Foley's lips, but when he caught her eye there was only a glimmer of amusement.

He sent out another pulse as they walked, searching deeper in the facility, but the problem with Junon — and with most large cities — was that with so many people nearby, it was too easy to get his pulse caught on them if he didn't have a clear idea of where he was sending it. Humans were such chaotic creatures that his internal chaotic nature craved their energy, yearned for it, and it was only through sheer force of will that Vincent kept himself from consuming the whole damn world. That, and a healthy diet of monsters to sate the need.

They passed through another door into a much larger lab, and Vincent paused in the threshold, fighting back a wave of memories. It was cleaner than the basement lab had ever been, the surfaces stark white and clean metals, but he couldn't stop himself from superimposing the image anyway, seeing it through a green haze, a tube he'd been trapped in for so long he couldn't remember when he’d left—

"Mr. Valentine?"

"I'm fine," he said, and told himself it was true.

Vincent stepped forward into the room, hiding his grimace behind his cloak at the sight of the lab. There was nothing gruesome about it, no human experiments writhing on the tables, just paperwork and materia laid out, but a set of lab tools in the corner was unsettling enough. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus on the man striding towards them, relieved that despite the familiar lab coat he wore, he was far too stout and hairy to ever mistake for Hojo.

"Sorrel! What's the meaning of this?" Goff demanded. "What's the WRO doing in my lab?"

"I— I'm sorry!" the assistant sputtered, cowering under his superior's gaze. "They— she said they're inspecting, sir—"

Foley gave him a pleasant smile. "Dr. Merv Goff, is it? I'm Agent Foley, and this—"

"Out! All of you! We've done nothing wrong!"

"Dr. Goff, we're only here to look over your work. The WRO is interested to see how it's coming along, and to offer aid if there's anything we can do."

Vincent's eyebrows rose so high they were in danger of disappearing behind his bandanna. Goff looked just as surprised, though whether it was because of what Foley said or because she actually sounded sincere, Vincent couldn't say. "You... you really want to help?" he repeated slowly. "Well why didn't you _say_ so? Come on, let me show you everything!"

He led them over to a machine across the room, barking orders as his assistant, and Vincent took the opportunity to lean forward, speaking low beside Foley's ear. "Well done."

She winked. "Thank you, Mr. Valentine."

\---

Materia fusion, Goff explained, was a tricky thing. It wasn't just about which materia were put into the formula, or what item was used to add to the process — it was all about the way the two spells interacted. They cast into each other, and if one didn't overpower the other, they would either cancel each other out or fuse into something else entirely, often with completely unexpected results.

For years, Shinra had sought to create unique materia, wanting only to empower their soldiers with the ultimate tools of destruction. But they were limited by their inputs, and there was only so much variation on the other end. Goff started to explain something about different types of materia, and how each type could only fuse with certain types for certain results, but Vincent waved him past it; he didn't need to know the details.

"What about now?" he pressed. "You have the equipment. You have materia. What are you making?"

"Making?" Goff gave him a puzzled look. "Mr. Valentine, have you been listening to anything I've said?"

Vincent glared at him, and Foley raised her hand, giving him a placating look. "What he means, Dr. Goff, is how are you using this equipment now? Obviously, you're an expert on materia fusion. Can't you manufacture materia?"

"Of course not!" Goff looked at them, appalled. "Do you have any _idea_ how much power it took to fuse two materia together? We'd need the mako reactor back online to start with, and besides, what would we _do_ with it? We don't _need_ the materia, miss, we need the _energy_. That's what I've been telling you. We're not trying to _fuse_ materia, we're trying to _reverse-engineer_ it."

Vincent gave him a blank look, and Foley was just as lost. "What do you mean?"

Goff huffed, taking on a pedantic tone. "Look. When you fuse two materia together, you lose them, and you get a new materia, right? Well, _before_ that, the materia cast into each other, and that's how it decides what to fuse. We never cared about it before, because we got the materia and we didn't need the energy. We had mako. But now we _do_ need it, and if we can _generate_ power from fusion..." He trailed off, gesturing with his hands for them to finish his thought.

"I get it," Vincent said. He felt tired. It was a similar idea to MateriaWorks, all right, just different in method and execution. "So if you wanted to manufacture a materia—"

"I just _told_ you, we _can't!_ "

Vincent turned away. This had been another waste of time. He had let himself hope, as Goff spoke, but he knew this wasn't it. It was just another scientist with a theory, testing and testing until he finally got it right. He strode from the room without a backwards glance, distantly hearing Foley make his excuses for him.

He waited for her in the front room, standing still as a statue against the wall. Once again, he'd failed. There was nothing here. There was but one name more on the list Veld had given him, and it was the name of a scientist who had worked in the materia department at Shinra some years before and since left the study entirely. Vincent had no hope that he would prove to be the one with all the answers. Not after the only experts still working in the field had given him nothing.

_Cid... I'm sorry._

He wouldn't stop looking — he had sworn to find the pilot, and time was of no concern to him, but the clone's words lay heavy on his heart. _You ain’t gonna save him from the dragon._ The longer he stood here without the slightest idea of where to turn, the more chances he gave whatever madman held his friend to do unspeakable things to him.

The door jingled open, and Vincent looked up into the surprised eyes of another man with a labcoat, apparently back from his grocery shopping. "Wow, we never get visitors," the man said after a moment. "Can I help you?"

Vincent made a low, disgruntled noise. "Not unless you can find someone who doesn't exist."

"Someone who doesn't exist? What, like a ghost?" The man gave him a skeptical look.

"What else do you call someone who can manufacture a fused materia without mako power?" Vincent said dully. He didn't care about hiding it; if the man worked here his coworkers would likely fill him in on their visit.

But instead of laughing it off, the man looked like he was seriously considering the question. "You want my best guess?"

Vincent huffed and raised an eyebrow.

"Hojo." He shrugged. "He's the only one who could."


	11. biology 101.

_Hojo._

Vincent felt like ice had been poured through his veins at the very sound of the name. It didn't matter how long it had been, or how sure he was that the man was dead — he had suffered too long at that madman's hands to keep from reacting.

"Hojo is dead," Vincent said, and for once he had to fight to keep the emotion out of his voice.

The man seemed to grasp that he was treading in dangerous territory, and held up a placating hand. "No, no, I know that! I was just saying, _if_ somebody was doing that— he'd be my guess. That— that's all. Sir."

Vincent's hand twitched. He wasn’t doing a very good job of staying calm. And yet, even with rage flooding through him at the mention of his worst nightmare, he could see something wasn't right. "Hojo never studied materia. He cared only for living subjects."

The man shifted the bag of groceries in his arms, as if to put them down, but one flinch from Vincent was enough to make him stay put. "Well, yeah, _Doctor_ Hojo was," the man said, and despite the dangerous man in front of him he sounded confused. "But I was talking about his son."

Vincent moved without thinking, talons tearing through the man's labcoat until he had a tight grip on the front of his shirt. He paid no heed to the groceries scattering everywhere, focusing only on the trembling man he had pressed against the wall. The man was babbling apologies, but Vincent silenced him with a glare and another sharp shove, which was enough to get him to meet Vincent's deadly gaze. "What did _Sephiroth_ know of materia fusion?" he demanded.

"S-S-Sephiroth? He was a SOLDIER First class, they all knew how to fuse materia, but w-why are you asking about him?"

" _You_ spoke of him."

"No I didn— wait, _wait_ , are you telling me Sephiroth was Dr. _Hojo's_ son?" The man looked so flabbergasted that Vincent's grip faltered, though not enough for the man to wriggle free. "That— I mean, that explains a _lot_ , I just— you're sure? _Hojo_ was his father?"

Vincent ignored the question, his mind racing. "You can't mean— Hojo had other children?"

"J-Just the son, sir! He used to work in the Science Department, both him and Mrs. Hojo."

Vincent abruptly released the man, who darted away from the wall before he could have second thoughts. He had never even considered the idea that Hojo might have remarried — that he could have had other children than _Sephiroth_. He had never looked at Hojo's files since waking from his long sleep, never once thought past the man himself. To Vincent, Hojo had been the greatest evil on the face of the planet, and now that he was gone, he had assumed his legacy had died with him.

How very wrong he'd been. Hojo wasn't the one so devoted to Lucrecia that he'd lock himself away for thirty years. Vincent was.

"Planet, what's happened to you?” It was Goff; he and Foley had finally emerged from the back lab. The man rounded on him. “Mr. Valentine! You better have a damn good explanation for roughing up my researchers!" Vincent lowered his claw and turned, steeling his expression.

"We need to question him. He has information we need.” He nodded to Foley, and though she was surprised, she was just as good as Reeve said she'd be: she simply nodded and put a hand on the researcher’s shoulder. Vincent turned away as the agent led the man out of the building.

He had a call to make.

\---

Three hours later, with two separate files of information — one from Veld, one from Reeve — Vincent stood outside another interrogation room. Under such short notice, there wasn't much either the Turks or the WRO could get for him, but it was a start. Veld had been wary of sending any data at all to a WRO base, but given the urgency, he'd relented and allowed Vincent to access what information he had. Encryption technology was one of the many things that had advanced during Vincent's absence from the world, and though Cid had helped him update his repertoire on more complex machinery, Vincent had a ways to go with electronics.

He was trying to push thoughts of the pilot out of his head, but it got harder and harder the more he found out about Hojo's other son. There was no question in his mind who had Cid; no one else could have come up with a scheme like this. _No one_ would have gone to such lengths to hide themselves from detection. Tatsumi Hojo might not be the same man as his father, but he certainly had some of the same methods.

The WRO's information was sparse, and he had needed the Turks' copy of the old Shinra database to fill in the blanks. Tatsumi Hojo was 32 years of age, having been born just under a year after Hojo married his mother, the late Natasha Hojo. There were no records of experiments on either of them, but the files the WRO had recovered from Deepground were extensive, and it would take time to go through them, especially if they were encoded.

Tatsumi had been a prodigy, though nowhere close to Sephiroth's level, and had started work in the Shinra Science Department at the age of 17. There were mentions of him in several different sub-departments, but Tatsumi had finally settled in materia, and had stayed there until abruptly disappearing from the company records three years prior to Meteorfall. No mention of transfer, injury, or death — he had simply vanished.

His mother, on the other hand, had a well-documented demise, and Vincent had winced at the photographs in her file. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and some of Hojo's specimens had gotten the better of her. There was a record of her funeral arrangements, and nothing further.

That left Goff's researcher as his best lead. Dr. Darwin Sawyer had worked for Shinra for nine years prior to Meteorfall, and had had the good luck to evacuate Midgar with time to spare. True to his word, he had worked in the materia department for the majority of his career, and Tatsumi Hojo had been his direct superior despite being many years younger than him. Vincent gave the file one last glance and opened the door.

Darwin gulped at the sight of him. He had been given another shirt, which was much too big on him, and he looked like he had never been so much as asked a question by a security guard before from the way he was sweating. Vincent didn't mind. He wasn't in the mood for another trying interrogation.

He set the files down on the table, leaving them shut, and leaned back against the opposite wall. "Tell me what happened to Tatsumi Hojo."

"What h-happened? Uh, well, I guess you mean when he left?" Darwin swallowed and wiped his hands on his pants. He looked around nervously, too afraid to look at Vincent himself. "They never got along, y'know, him and Dr. Hojo. Hojo — er, Tatsumi, sorry — he wasn't interested in experimenting on monsters, right? He just liked materia. The only thing they both liked was mako, I remember that much.” The man was babbling, but at least he was forthcoming, Vincent thought. “Anyway, Dr. Hojo never approved his research projects, even though they were the best in the department. I mean, he knew more than the rest of us combined, no matter how young he was. He was Hojo."

Vincent could see that easily enough. Hojo had only ever cared about his specimens; anything else wasn't deserving of his attention. Lucrecia had borne the same fate as his wife. It didn't matter that her Chaos theory had been right the entire time; it wasn't worth his interest until he had seen the proof of it before his eyes. A son, especially one he had raised to follow in his footsteps, would be no different.

"For a while Tatsumi put up with it, but, I mean, he was never as scared of Dr. Hojo as everybody else. So when his last project got denied, he snapped. Just refused to back down. They had a huge fight, right in the middle of the department, and then Tatsumi just walked out." Darwin shook his head, still not believing it all these years later. "He gathered up all his research materials and left. Dr. Hojo was telling him never to show his face there again, but I never thought that Tatsumi would really _quit_. There was nothing he cared about more than his research."

Vincent frowned. "You think he stopped?"

"Well— I mean, I never saw him again. No one did. Somebody asked Dr. Hojo, once, and he just said Tatsumi was gone for good. But I _knew_ him. Right before he left, he was saying he was close to making a breakthrough, he just needed the resources from Shinra to carry it out."

"So what was he doing?"

Darwin paused, and looked Vincent over. It was a look Vincent knew well: the look of someone trying to figure out if you were smart enough to understand what they were about to say. He raised an eyebrow, and Darwin began, hesitant. "It's... kind of complicated, but you know how we all go back to the lifestream?" At Vincent's nod, he continued. "We used to think that materia were the souls of the ancients, but that's a popular misunderstanding. Materia is just compressed, processed mako, and mako is the blood of the lifestream, which holds the spirits of the planet. Tatsumi believed that since materia came from the lifestream, there had to be a way to fuse them with humans. Just channeling their magic through equipment was inefficient, he used to say."

Vincent looked at the researcher with barely concealed horror. Mistaking it, Darwin held up his hands. "I know, I know, it's horrible, but he was Hojo's son. He always thought that way. _I_ always thought it was nuts..."

The man's words faded to a buzz at the edge of his senses as Vincent pressed his hand to his chest, over the Protomateria. This couldn't be happening. Not again. Not to _Cid_. Lucrecia's work had been a fluke. No other human had a chance of surviving fusion with a materia — and why _Cid_ of all people had been chosen was incomprehensible. But it was a Hojo at work. Anything was possible.

"Anyway, it never made sense," Darwin was saying when Vincent tuned back in.

"What?"

"Why Dr. Hojo turned him down. He kept saying he'd already _done_ the experiment Tatsumi was suggesting, but there was nothing in the database like it. I think that's why Tatsumi left, in the end. He wanted to prove he could do it."

" _Hojo_ worked with materia?" Vincent frowned at Darwin's nod. He had never heard of such an experiment, but then he had thirty years of lost time to catch up on. He'd have to have Reeve search through the recovered files again. "Do you know anything else? Where Tatsumi went, what he did?"

Darwin said nothing, looking uncertain. It took Vincent a moment to realize that the researcher was concerned for himself. He couldn't blame him. "You're afraid."

"He's a Hojo," Darwin said. "I mean, I haven't talked to him in years, but..."

Vincent shook his head. He understood. "The WRO will put a guard on your workplace. You'll be fine."

"Thanks." He swallowed and sat up straighter. "Last I heard, he moved here to Junon. There really wasn't anywhere else with enough resources for him to work. And he changed his name." He curled his hands in his lap. "Quincy Lynwood."

The door was already slamming behind Vincent.

It was the last name on Veld's list.

\---

The address was a front. The apartment looked like it hadn't been lived in for months, maybe even longer. Vincent swore under his breath, but he wasn't surprised. He was dealing with a Hojo; there was no knowing what kinds of traps he'd have to deal with.

And that meant calling in the Turks.

Reeve had been a great help, that went without question. And there was a certain value in having a uniform and all the regulations that went with it along for the ride; the visit to Fissure earlier had proven that. For all that the WRO was striving to make the world a better place, bureaucracy itself would never change.

But for a man in the shadows, he would need those who made the shadows their business. Veld's Turks were retired, and Vincent was too, but things were different when Hojos were involved. He'd need help.

Vincent checked over the apartment for listening devices — those, at least, he had familiarized himself with since returning to the world of the living — and, finding none, phoned Veld.

"I need a Turk."

"It's yours. Tell me what you have."

Vincent passed along the information he had, and made arrangements to meet Veld's Turk at the inn the next evening. He had no desire to wait that long, but — loath as he was to admit it — the younger Hojo had had Cid this long, and knowing who had him didn't change his status. Vincent had never been the type to rush into a situation, and even though every part of him was screaming to do just that, the reality was that he didn't even know if Cid was here in Junon.

"One more thing," Vincent said, once everything was settled. "The researcher mentioned something, one of Hojo's projects. Did he ever work with materia?"

Veld went silent, and it stretched long enough that Vincent pulled his phone away from his ear to check if the connection was still holding. "Veld?"

"What do you know?"

Vincent's brow furrowed. He had never heard Veld sound like that — so detached and cold that it was like he was talking to someone else. These days, Veld kept up the guise of a calm, retired executive, no matter what laid in his past. This was like hearing him give orders to kill. "Only what I said," Vincent said, keeping his tone flat. "Why?"

The silence held for several long moments. Finally, Veld let out a slow breath, and when he spoke again, he sounded like a tired old man. "Don't you remember, Vincent?"

"Remember what?"

"When we found you beneath Shinra Manor, sleeping like the dead." Vincent frowned to himself; he remembered, but he didn't know why Veld was bringing it up. The incident had seemed like a brief dream in the middle of his nightmares; he had stayed awake only long enough to help an old friend. It wasn't enough to keep him from his self-imposed punishment.

And then it flooded back to him — the haunted look in Veld's eyes, the way he'd asked if Vincent had seen any shards of materia. At the time, Vincent hadn't cared why he was asking. "You don't mean..."

"He implanted one in Felicia," Veld said. "My daughter."

Vincent said nothing. He couldn't believe he'd never realized the implications. The materia shard had been in the mansion since before he'd ever arrived; it was said to be a Shinra family heirloom. Vincent had never paid it much attention, past an idle curiosity where the rest of the materia was and what it did, but with the materia that far shattered it was long past any recognition. A single shard could never have given the full breadth of its power if implanted, and it would only drain the life from its host.

Vincent hadn't met Felicia himself, but Veld had spoken of her — recently — and he knew she was doing well. Somehow, she had survived, and the materia was no longer an issue, though he didn't want to imagine what it could have done. And now Hojo's son meant to recreate the experiment with another materia and succeed.

"Tell me everything," Vincent said.


	12. return service requested.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you again. I'm Cissnei."

The Turk standing before him was familiar, but it wasn't until she gave him an easy smile that Vincent could place her. It was the same Turk who had been with Veld in Shinra Manor when he'd woken from his slumber, and Vincent allowed himself a half-smile. He had to hand it to Veld, the man knew him well. As much as Vincent knew he would need help with this, he wasn't happy about it, and having someone he was familiar with put him at ease.

"Likewise," Vincent allowed, stepping aside. The woman slipped past him, and he watched her take in the room with a Turk's eyes -- checking exits, surveying what he'd been doing. He'd left the room much as it came; he'd caught a couple hours of sleep, but mostly he'd used the desk to go over the files he had on Tatsumi and the couch for meditation. Cissnei nodded to herself and placed a thin folder on the desk, mindful not to disturb his work.

"This is all we have so far. Sorry it's not more, things aren’t like they used to be." Vincent lifted a shoulder and she flipped the file open. "The apartment you went to is just a front to keep people away; he lives on one of the lower levels. At least, he used to. His landlord hasn't seen him since the Deepground kidnappings six months ago." At Vincent's start -- had he been taken? -- she shook her head. "That's what I thought, so I dug deeper. He's lived here for years, so he didn't need to hide the paper trail. His financial accounts are still active -- and they've got recent activity."

Cissnei pulled out a certain sheet and passed it to Vincent. His eyes narrowed as he looked over the list of transactions; most were encoded, but the amounts were far above what a scientist should be handling, Hojo or no. "Where's it going?"

"That's the thing." She turned to him, lips twisting in a frown. "He's been selling to local crime syndicates. He deals with them all equally, almost like he doesn't care. But everything he spends goes straight into private accounts with no ties to him. WRO operatives, ex-Shinra employees all over the city."

"So what do they have in common?"

Cissnei gave him a lopsided smile. "I was going to leave that to you. _I'm_ not the one friendly with the WRO commissioner."

Vincent raised an eyebrow, amused. He couldn't deny that he liked this Turk. She was cordial, but her manner was no-nonsense and she didn't bother with frivolities. Veld had trained her well. "All right. What about you?"

"I'm going to get in touch with one of these syndicates. See if I can't get a contact out of them." She winked. "The boss said it's been a while since you've gone undercover."

Vincent huffed, but didn't deny it. "Then get moving." He paused, and glanced down at the list of transactions. His eyebrows rose as he saw some of the entries near the bottom. "The commissioner will want to know where I got this, you know."

Cissnei shrugged. "He'll understand. Reeve spies as much as we do. He just hides it better." She waved over her shoulder. "I'll call you."

"Hmph." Vincent smiled behind his cloak. She'd get him the information he needed, all right. A good Turk knew when intel mattered more than the consequences.

\---

Reeve, as he predicted, was furious.

A check of the names and ID numbers associated with Tatsumi Hojo's transaction records had shown, conclusively, that Junon Base's power issues were the fault of a single man. With bribes to every official with any significant clout, Tatsumi had put in place a system that would direct any excess electricity the Junon power grid created to a location of his choosing -- a location which seemingly changed depending on the man's whim. The order would come in for Upper Junon one week, the lowest level of the city the next, and the operators simply routed it where it was supposed to go and lined their pockets while the rest of the city suffered the blackouts.

What made it even worse was that Vincent refused to let him disable it.

"This has been going on for _months!_ Do you have any idea how much oil we've wasted trying to get these projects going again?!" Reeve demanded. He had been pacing back and forth behind his desk for the last ten minutes. "We can't just let it _continue!_ "

"I'm not letting it continue," Vincent said, irritated but keeping his tone as level as he could. It wasn't working all that well. "He has _Cid_. If he has him in a mako solution and we cut the power, he'll go into shock. Let me retrieve him, _then_ you pull the plug."

"But--" Reeve cut himself off and turned away, agitated. Vincent knew the man was stressed, but under the circumstances he didn't have much in the way of pity. There was too much at risk for him to worry about Reeve's troubles. "We're already tracing the power supply," Reeve said finally, dragging his hand back through his hair. " _Planet_ , Vincent, I don't want to think about what he could be _doing_ to him..."

"Neither do I. So _find him_."

Reeve sank back into his chair. "Alright. You're... you're right. And when we do--"

"When we do, I will deal with him."

" _Vincent--!_ "

Vincent glared down at Reeve. " _I_ will deal with him. I will not let him get his hands on _anyone_ else. Do you understand me?"

He realized, absently, that some of his chaotic aura was bleeding out, and collected it back within his body. It wasn't visible, but it was enough to thoroughly intimidate Reeve, and the man nodded. Vincent doubted he had any argument left in him.

"Then contact me when you have something." He swept out of the room, cloak billowing behind him.

\---

"Vincent."

"Cissnei. Report."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "You sound just like the boss." Then she was all business. "I've made contact. He operates under the name Materia Maker. You want materia, you go to him. You get his address, you place an order, he gives you a time and place to pick it up." She sighed. "I have to hand it to him, Vincent. He's good. No one's ever seen one of his agents. They just find the materia, right where he says it is."

Vincent had to agree. It was an ironclad operation, the kind he would run himself if he was of a more criminal persuasion. He was sure it didn't matter to the syndicates where they got their materia from, nor what they paid. Without Shinra, _anyone_ selling would be sure to make whatever they wanted.

The fact that no one ever saw the man was odd, though. There was no trace of Tatsumi on any of Junon's security monitors in the past six months, Reeve had told him that, and yet the materia made it to their buyers right on schedule. He had to be using someone to make the deliveries... and then Vincent cursed. It was right in front of him.

“Clones. He’s using clones.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath. Cissnei was trained too well to show any more surprise than that. She had been briefed on the Cid clones, but Vincent had left out as many details as he could. He trusted Veld, but he wasn't about to let something like this into the hands of an untested Turk unless he had to. "What are your orders?" she asked finally.

Vincent smiled grimly to himself. "We set a trap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen various takes on the Before Crisis Turks over the years, many of them excellent, but I went with Cissnei simply because I found her easier to use. (And, I'll admit, it helps that she has a name.)


	13. a meeting of the minds.

The plan itself was simple. Vincent had never favored overly complex plots with too many variables; they lent themselves all the more to something going wrong. No, the fewer pieces in place, the fewer paths a situation could take, and that made them all the easier to manipulate.

True, there was the fact that with a plan this simple, the trap would be seen through. Vincent hadn't so much as thought of that as he was counting on it. Tatsumi had already tried to cover for the loss of his first Cid clone by sending a second, and it had done its part, but with the second destroyed, he had to know that they were on to him. He would be expecting someone to come for him sooner or later. In fact, he'd rejected the materia order they'd placed at first, and they'd had to double the price to get him to agree. It was all done over the worldwide network, with no hints to his identity given, but Cissnei assured Vincent that it was him. This was the same pattern he'd followed with every other sale he'd made.

"We knew there was someone supplying them," she'd told him as they closed up the deal. "I keep an eye on Junon, drop a couple of hints to the WRO when they have trouble. We don't agree with everything Reeve is doing, but he's better than these syndicates. If they had too much power, it'd be trouble for all of us. So, in a way, you're helping out my investigation."

Vincent hadn't taken much comfort in that. He couldn't find it in him to care much about local politics with one of his friends' lives at stake. He had so few of them that the thought of _losing_ one — or worse, having him experimented on — had occupied his mind for much of the night.

And they had had nothing to do but wait. Reeve had managed to trace where the electricity was being routed, but had only come up with a dead end. Junon Base was a labyrinth of tunnels built into the face of the mountain, and though Reeve had pinpointed the power draw to one particular transformer, it was being routed from there through so many different facilities that there was no way to determine where it ended back up. Ironically, they didn't have enough electricity on their end to do it.

Reeve hadn't liked that either.

So that left tracking the clone. It was a gamble, but without any other leads — and not wanting to get anyone else involved — it was the best they had. Junon itself was too densely populated to find a needle in a haystack without anything _to_ trace, but if Tatsumi's clone left a materia out for them, all he would have to do was pick up its trail. He knew the exact magical signature the clones carried. It would be simple to follow it home.

And then he'd rid the planet of Hojo's legacy once and for all.

\---

"That's it."

Vincent knelt and picked up the faintly glowing materia between his talons. He could feel the faint pulse of magic in it even now, the lifeblood of the planet still weeping behind a crystal shell. This materia had never needed to be made.

He didn't realize he was glaring until he caught his own reflection on its surface.

"Vincent? Can you track it?" Cissnei sounded uncertain, but he knew it wasn't about the question.

He sent out a pulse of energy, swallowing the materia into his chaotic force and dissolving it. The clone's trail lit up like mako-drenched footprints to his vision, and he nodded once, sweeping his cloak aside as he turned to follow.

"—Wait. Before you go."

He paused, a venomous look in his eyes. She would _not_ keep him from finding Hojo.

"The boss said that if you can't handle it, come back and we can send in a team. He doesn't want you to get hurt."

Vincent stared at her. He had never heard something so absurd in his life. Not even from _Yuffie_. He was _Chaos_. There wasn't a thing on the planet he couldn't consume if he wanted to.

Cissnei held up a hand, obviously sensing she'd said the wrong thing — or maybe it was because his chaotic aura was starting to wrap around his body. "I'm— just passing on the message. I'm sure you'll be fine." She took a step backwards. Vincent couldn't tell if she was leaving or retreating. Probably both. "Call me if you need anything."

He huffed and turned away. It came out more like a snarl.

\---

Vincent had never been this deep into Junon Base. Back during the Jenova War, with Meteor hanging over their heads, he'd been here twice. The first he barely remembered, and didn't care to. Any time spent in Hojo's care was best forgotten, and he was lucky his teammates — _friends_ , he corrected himself, they had proven themselves his friends that day — had come for him. They could have left him to rot in Hojo's laboratory like any other specimen, but they'd risked themselves to retrieve him. 

He had been a weaker man then, consumed with guilt and the horrors his transformations inflicted upon him. Vincent didn't consider himself particularly strong now, but he had begun to let things go in the past four years. He would never be the man he was before the coffin, but that was all right. That man had died a long time ago.

The second time had been for the Huge Materia at the Underwater Reactor, and Vincent felt as if he was going just as deep as he descended into the base now. He had never understood just how Shinra had managed to build an _underwater_ reactor in the first place. At the time, he had simply marvelled, and chalked it up to one of the technical advancements that had come during his slumber, but he could barely fathom the amount of manpower it must have taken to build such an installation on the seafloor, let alone how they'd survived.

It was the kind of thing he'd have to ask Cid, he thought, and it made him quicken his pace.

The clone's trail hadn't faded, even this far beneath the city. If anything it had just gotten stronger. This wasn't the first clone to have emerged, Vincent knew, but he hadn't realized just how _many_ clones he might be dealing with down here. Tatsumi obviously had extensive resources at his disposal, and he had to be prepared for anything.

He gripped his gun tighter. It was a good thing he was at full power. Even his demons knew better than to fight him when it came to something like this. This wasn't the same Hojo who had bound them to this human vessel, but it didn't matter. It was all the same to them.

Vincent paused at the bottom of a long staircase. If he hadn't had a path to follow, he might never have found his way through here. He had to be several hundred feet below sea level by now, and the stench of mako was starting to make his head hurt. The Lifestream wasn't as close to the surface here as it was elsewhere in the world, but with his senses, it never felt that far down anyway.

There weren't any elevators along the route; Vincent guessed that Tatsumi couldn't risk someone noticing the power draw, or worse, being trapped in one. As it was, it was only the generous head start the clone had on him that made it take this long for Vincent to catch up to him. Vincent didn't recognize the man, didn't care — he simply shot out with his claw, shoving so much chaotic energy into him that the clone barely had time to scream before the materia was nothing but a wisp of magic fading back into the Lifestream.

He didn't need it anymore. He was here.

\---

It reminded him of Deepground. Dimly lit rooms, wires linking equipment together so haphazardly that even if he knew what they did, he doubted any of it would make sense. Vincent moved over the metal floor on silent feet, cloaking his approach with magic. He had no interest in some grand entrance. As far as he was concerned, there were only three objectives.

Rescue Cid. Kill Hojo. Destroy everything.

Simple. Just the way he liked it. The chaos in him wanted nothing but to consume all of this. It was a blight against the planet, and he was its unmaker, a willing tool of his Planet's will.

Aside from the equipment linked together, the labs looked like they hadn't been used in decades. What machines weren't turned on were covered with dust. He followed the cables and the faint sounds at the edge of his hearing, the rumble of machinery and the constant bubbling of mako he'd never be able to forget.

The labs opened up into a narrow, winding corridor, and he sent a pulse out in both directions, even though he could sense which way the clone had come from. There were only two lifeforms down here, and relief surged through Vincent's chest as he found Cid's soul still tied to his body, still _alive_. He was weak, he wasn't all there, but it was _him_ and that was all that mattered. The other, he could deal with.

He was silent as a shadow as he moved towards them. The lights flickered above him as he moved, once sending the whole place into darkness, but it was only a few seconds before it came back on. There was a curse from the next room, too muffled to make out. Vincent waited until the man was still until moving forward.

He saw Cid first, just a glimpse — he was suspended in a mako solution, unconscious, his mind such a chaotic mess he was immediately drawn to it — but he had eyes only for Tatsumi Hojo, and his gun was drawn, his finger on the trigger and his aim on the man's head.

Only he didn't fire.

Every part of his mind was screaming to take the shot. Even the demons, even _Hellmasker_ , who had for so long done nothing but try to break Vincent's will, was putting all the force they had into it, trying to will him to shoot. He couldn't.

And Vincent realized he had made a mistake.

It was only a scientist. He had never doubted he could kill him, Hojo's son or not. No amount of modification could possibly give Tatsumi enough power to overcome him. Not he who had stopped the final WEAPON from ascending.

But Tatsumi was smarter than him. Had outwitted him from the very beginning. And the yellow materia equipped on Tatsumi's armband had frozen him in place like it was what the scientist had intended all along.

Vincent had the horrible feeling it was.

"You're late," Tatsumi said coldly. Like his father, his hair was dark and stringy, but it was cut just past his shoulders, and he didn't bother keeping it tied back. The voice was different, more mechanical, and he didn't have glasses, but he walked just like his father, head slightly bowed, shoulders hunched, hands behind his back. "Still, I _must_ thank you for coming all the way down here, Chaos. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Vincent said nothing. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even _move_ — and then he could, without any input of his own. His finger lifted off the trigger of his gun, his thumb flicked on the safety, and he set it on a nearby table. Then he stood with his hands to his side.

This wasn't possible. He wasn't _susceptible_ to Manipulate spells. The Protomateria saw to that. Chaos answered only to the planet, and it gave him certain protections in order to keep his power under its control. Even with his body frozen, some of the utter horror must have shown in Vincent's eyes, because Tatsumi tapped the materia in his armband with a pleased look.

"Then again, I suppose I should be glad you took as long as you did. I wasn't sure I'd have this finished in time for you. Do you have any _idea_ what it takes to make a Manipulate materia capable of controlling a planet's WEAPON? Well, no, of course you wouldn't." He chuckled. "You never would have dared come here otherwise, Chaos."

It wasn't just the spell keeping him frozen now. He didn't know how it was possible — didn't _want_ to know, even though he needed to, more than anything — but this man, this spawn of Hojo knew _exactly_ what he was, when there wasn't a soul on the planet who should have known of it. _How?_ He was desperate to ask, and yet the question would only give the man the satisfaction he craved.

It didn't matter, he'd said it all without words — but Tatsumi waved it aside. "But it's a good thing you have. You see — and I do hate to admit this — I can't complete my experiment without you." He glanced back at the man in the stasis tube, a small frown on his lips. "I'd wanted to be done months ago... but no matter. It seems only you, my dear Chaos, can keep a soul from its journey to the Lifestream."

Vincent abruptly found his voice unstuck, but only one word came to his lips. "No—"

"You see," Tatsumi continued, looking down at the materia in his armband, "I've studied materia all my life. How is it that these little crystal balls hold so much power? How is it that the ancients my father was so fond of could simply _use_ these abilities, this _magic_ , simply by wishing it so? Why were we humans only worthy of these limited _materia_ as our legacy?"

He snorted. "My father never understood. He cared so much about his _specimens_. About _Sephiroth_. And didn't _that_ end up just the way I knew it would." He shook his head. "He cared so much about _creating_ the perfect warrior and using that alien of his that he ignored what we've always had right in front of us. _Materia._

"But it's not all spells, is it, my dear Chaos? Your Protomateria is proof of that. And you aren't alone. My father was so close to the same thing, and saw nothing but _failures_." Tatsumi sneered, and looked so much like his father that Vincent thought of Hojo's hologram superimposed over Weiss, down in the bowels of Midgar — but this was worse, and much more alive. "He was inferior. _You_ know it, _I_ know it. The only success he ever had was Sephiroth — and we all paid the price for my brother's madness."

"And you're not mad?" Vincent knew it was a dangerous question — possibly a suicidal one, given the circumstances — but Tatsumi seemed to find it amusing.

"Hardly. I'm well aware of what I'm doing. My father and my brother sought godhood, never realizing the answer was lying in front of them for thirty years." Vincent's eyes widened. " _You_ , Chaos. Or don't you consider yourself a god? No, no, don't tell me. You serve the _Planet._ Tch. I suppose it's what you were made to do. But not I." Tatsumi smirked. "Why should I destroy this planet when I could rule it?"

"You can't." Vincent's words sounded weak even to him. If Tatsumi knew this much — if he tried to replicate Lucrecia's experiment — but it wasn't _possible_ —

Then he stared at the man in the stasis tube. _No._ "Cid—"

"Ah, yes. Him." Tatsumi followed his gaze back to Cid, nonplussed. "I needed a viable test subject. I certainly wasn't going to try it on _myself_. I would have liked someone who wasn't so high-profile, but I knew I'd be found eventually. I wasn't going to waste time on a subject who wasn't a match."

"But he's not— you can't—"

"Don't fool yourself, Chaos. You know full well he's the ideal candidate." Tatsumi pulled a red materia from his pocket, examining it idly. "I had always dreamed of fusing summon materia, you know. It was the project my father would never approve. Summon materia was too rare, the experiment had already been a failure with mere shards, the list went on and on. And then AVALANCHE collected every summon materia on the planet — and left it together, even after it was used against them. Your colleagues aren't very smart."

He rolled the materia in his palm. "But it's the WRO I have to thank most. If they hadn't put the worldwide network back online, I never would have been able to access my father's files. Or Dr. Crescent's. There it was, right for the taking, everything Shinra had ever sealed away from me. And there you were to stop Omega, every bit as powerful as expected— well, I just couldn't help myself."

It was so nonchalant, and so infuriatingly _Hojo_ that Vincent could do nothing but throw every last bit of chaotic energy he had against the spell holding him, trying to dissolve the magic holding him. But Tatsumi had known _precisely_ how to bind him, and all Vincent could do was snarl at him. "I will _never_ let you do this to him!"

"You never had a choice, Chaos. Now step aside, I've waited long enough." Vincent was moving against his will as soon as the command was past Tatsumi's lips, no matter how hard he fought against it. "I need to prepare for surgery."


	14. soulbound.

Vincent's hands moved against his will. He had never been this powerless in his life. Not when Hojo had mutilated him, not when his demons changed his form and wreaked havoc, not when Chaos tore his soul to shreds until they became one. _Nothing_ was like watching his body move and not being able to control even the slightest twitch of a finger.

He didn't stop fighting, not for a moment, but every time he was met with stronger resistance. The spell Tatsumi had him trapped in was like an iron cage with no bars, nothing even to grab on to pull himself out with. He wasn't cut off from the Planet, but his chaotic energy had nowhere to go, and he couldn't send the slightest pulse of energy outside his own body.

Vincent tried to focus as much as he could on breaking free, and not what his body was doing, because he wasn't sure if he could handle the alternative. Cid was unconscious, obviously enhanced from prolonged exposure to mako and more than likely addicted, and though Vincent knew it gave him a better chance of surviving the procedure he found no comfort in it. Tatsumi had him strapping Cid down onto a surgical table, with restraints not unlike ones Vincent remembered, and even if Vincent's body couldn't shudder the rest of him was horrified at the sight. If he couldn't break free — if he couldn't stop Tatsumi —

No. No, he had to. He _had_ to. He couldn't let Cid suffer the same fate. He couldn't let _anyone_ bear his curse. He'd just have to fight harder.

"Step aside," Tatsumi barked once Cid was in position, and Vincent did so gratefully, even if his body moved on autopilot. He was still facing the table, and he couldn't look away, but he focused inward, channelling his chaotic forces into one single energy. Just because he had accepted his role didn't mean he had forgotten how much he had fought with Chaos at first, and he channeled all of that rage at the spell binding him, winding his power into tight, powerful coils of pure energy. Every one knocked him back a little further, but he didn't let up, hammering at it like a drowning man desperately reaching for the surface.

And then he felt a pain so sharp that it snapped him out of his concentration. He couldn't flinch, but internally his chaotic energy dissipated, scattering back into the depths of his soul as Vincent hissed in pain. When his bleary eyes managed to refocus, he saw the materia on Tatsumi's armband glowing all the brighter.

"Chaos, Chaos, Chaos," he said, like he was scolding a small child. "What did I say? You're going to need that power of yours for this experiment to work — or did you want me to kill him?" He lifted the scalpel in his hand, idly moving it over above Cid's heart. "I don't _really_ need him now that I have you, you know. I could simply find another candidate. Oh, it would take time, but _you’re_ not getting any older." He pressed the tip of the scalpel into Cid's skin, a few drops of blood trickling out.

Vincent knew he had lost, then. He could do nothing but watch. Even if he did break free, Tatsumi held Cid's life in the palm of his hand. If the slightest thing went wrong, not even Chaos's magic could keep his soul tied to his body.

"Well, Chaos?" Tatsumi prodded. "Have I made myself clear?"

Vincent said nothing. He wouldn't be forced to speak. Silence was answer enough for the scientist, and Tatsumi hummed with satisfaction as he bent to his work.

Vincent didn't remember most of what had been done to him; whether he'd blocked it out or whether he'd been unconscious for it, he didn't know. He could only pray Cid didn't wake. The one saving grace Tatsumi Hojo had over his father was that he didn't seek to _torture_ Cid — to him, this was simply a trial run before doing it to himself. If Cid survived — and Vincent wasn't sure himself if he wanted the man to or not, knowing what he could be cursed with — at least he wouldn't remember this.

Tatsumi blotted away the incision he'd made over Cid's heart and moved instead to the line he'd drawn further above it. He made several precise incisions, and Vincent found his hands moving to hand him tools with no small amount of horror. He wanted to cry out, wanted to fight back, but he could do nothing but _watch_ , seeing Cid's chest cavity opened before him. If he could, he would have vomited. Tatsumi went about it all like it was a routine procedure, making the cuts he needed to rearrange Cid's internal organs to prepare for the materia waiting beside him.

This had happened to him, Vincent realized, and he felt sick all over again. Even after Hojo had opened him up and done planet knew what to him, Lucrecia — the woman he'd _loved_ — had laid him down on a table and done the very same. She had had noble intentions, she'd been trying to save him, and he'd forgiven her that, but she had _done this_. Vincent had never felt so much like a fool until this very moment. He had loved her, he still didn't regret that, but nothing justified this. Not love, not her beloved _thesis_ , _nothing_.

For months he had tried not to think about what she had done to him. Finding out that Chaos had come from her and not Hojo had been a shock unto itself, but he had barely had time to process it while fighting off Deepground, and it was only in the time afterwards that he could really start to come to terms with it. At first he'd justified it as he'd justified everything she'd ever done, and put the blame on himself, but standing here, watching someone else recreate her experiment... he couldn't do it.

This wasn't Cid's fault. Cid had done _nothing_ to deserve this. Tatsumi Hojo had picked him as his subject, taken him from his home — killed his _wife_ — and kept him here for months, experimenting on him, all in the name of becoming a god. Just like his father before him. Just like _Sephiroth_.

And if it wasn't Cid's fault... then how could it be Vincent's fault that Lucrecia had done this to him?

She didn't want to become a god. She wanted to save him. But she'd made him into the planet's WEAPON, and cursed him with a destiny so heavy that sometimes he just wanted to swallow _himself_ up with his chaotic force and leave the Planet to fend for itself. He didn't _want_ this. 

Her theory had been right, but what did that matter? There was no Shinra anymore. The world had changed. No one cared how the world was going to end. They'd survived one apocalypse. All anybody wanted was to live long enough not to see another one.

Lucrecia could apologize for eternity, but it wouldn't change what Vincent was. He was Chaos, the planet's WEAPON, the one who would cleanse the world and lead Omega on its journey to the next world.

And now Cid would suffer the same fate.

 _I'm sorry,_ he thought, knowing Cid couldn't hear it, and finally understanding why Lucrecia had never said anything else. The apologies had never been for him. They had been for herself.

He had been watching Tatsumi work with distant eyes, taking in the sight but trying not to process it, but the scientist was reaching for the materia now, and he couldn't ignore what was happening anymore. He felt a tug on the spell binding him and saw Tatsumi raise his arm. He had a scalpel pressed against Cid's neck.

"You will bind his soul to the materia, or he dies, Chaos," Tatsumi said. "Do we have an agreement?"

Vincent nodded, and hated himself for it.

There was nothing he could do. If he used his chaotic force to consume Cid's soul, rather than bind it, he would never join the Lifestream — he would simply be swallowed in the endless chaos that lived inside Vincent, and made a meal for one of his demons. It was the closest thing to hell Vincent could imagine, and even if he considered his existence a miserable thing sometimes, he wouldn't take the choice away from Cid. If he couldn't bear what he was about to become, Vincent wouldn't hold it against him.

He felt Tatsumi allow him a trickle of his magic, and Vincent shifted into Chaos's form, stepping into it like a second skin. It didn't hurt the way it used to, bones shifting and muscles stretching across his mass — if anything, he felt _right_ in Chaos's body, like he belonged this way. It was why he tried to avoid it. He liked to pretend there was still some humanity left in him. It was easier to use his magic this way, though, and he raised his left, demonic hand as Tatsumi pressed the materia into Cid's chest, calling the summon to take form inside Cid's body.

He could feel the summon begin to take shape and reached out with nothing but chaotic energy, taking hold of Cid's soul. Already it was frayed at the edges from the mako addiction and the stress of the past few months, and it was easier than Vincent liked to tear his soul's bond with his body. It took just a push for Cid’s soul to bind with the summon, the two meshing together as if they'd been made for one another. Cid's own innate magic resonated so strongly with the summon that within moments, the two were so fully joined that Vincent knew there would never be any way to break the bond.

He drew his hand away, shifting back into his human form, and felt the Manipulate spell loosen enough to allow him to sink back against a nearby table. It had taken only a fraction of his energy, but he felt drained, as if one of his demons had just been loose for several hours. He could still feel a lingering trace of the summon's magic, and though he'd known which one it would be, it hadn't really _hit_ him what it meant until it was finished.

_Planet, Cid... I'm so sorry._

He watched, mutely, as Tatsumi sewed up the new avatar of Bahamut.


	15. dragonking.

Vincent had hoped, once the surgery was complete, that Tatsumi would relent and give Cid time to recover. He was quick to find he had no such luck. As soon as he had cleaned up from the surgery, Tatsumi tugged at the Manipulate spell like a leash, pulling Vincent over to the table to gather Cid's body in his arms.

"Come on, then, hurry up," Tatsumi barked, heedless of the fact he was the one controlling Vincent. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this moment? I have to see if it worked!"

Vincent had enough mobility to give the scientist a venomous glare. "It did."

Tatsumi huffed. "And if I believed _you_ , Chaos, I'd be on the floor with a bullet in my brain. No, thank you, I'd rather be shown my work. Come, now."

With a flick of his wrist, he bade Vincent to follow him, and there was nothing the gunman could do but obey the spell binding his body. 

"I'm a genius, of course," Tatsumi said. Vincent half expected him to rub his hands together in glee. "I _knew_ he'd take the materia! Everything in his history showed he was the ideal candidate! Further proof that only one with the right heritage can be chosen for this experiment! Well, except _you_ , Chaos. You were just _unlucky_."

Vincent glared at him.

"But _I_ won't have that problem, oh no. You see, now that I've achieved this — providing he can transform, of course — it will be nothing to join with the Knights of the Round. They will grant me the power to rule over this pathetic world!"

Tatsumi dissolved into cackles. Vincent knew there was no use listening to any more, and tuned out the muttering scientist. Instead he focused only on the unconscious man in his arms. Cid was lucky: it didn't look like the incisions would scar too badly. If he stayed out, he might even miss the pain entirely. The mako would take care of the damage, and Vincent had no doubt the materia would do the rest. He could already feel ripples of magic stirring in Cid's soul, and he had the sinking feeling that it didn't matter if Tatsumi _wanted_ to run a test or not. Bahamut would not slumber quietly.

But that could be his chance. If Bahamut could distract Tatsumi long enough to break the Manipulate spell, Vincent could deal with the scientist. And if he didn't... well, if Tatsumi was insane enough to try and fuse himself with the Knights of the Round, Vincent had no issue with devouring his soul. The scientist couldn't do this without him.

He could only pray that Tatsumi didn't have a second Manipulate materia. Or worse, a clone to use it on him.

Vincent had never felt so helpless in his life. Cid was alive, but Vincent knew that meant nothing with what he'd been turned into. Vincent himself barely wanted to live with what he'd become; how would _Cid_ be able to stand this? If he hadn't underestimated Tatsumi, if he'd been faster...

None of the what ifs mattered anymore, but Vincent knew he'd never be able to stop thinking about them.

"Set him down there," Tatsumi ordered. Vincent obeyed without thinking, slowly coming back to himself and taking in his surroundings. He'd realized that they were going further underground, but he hadn't expected to find a room this _enormous_. It was easily several stories tall, and as wide and long across as one of Cid's airships. Part of it opened up into a cave system, while in the distance Vincent could see a long-abandoned gondola system not unlike the one used on the exterior of the city.

It would have taken enormous equipment to build the Junon base, Vincent realized. Shinra must have had drills that dug deep in the earth, and needed somewhere to keep them. Vincent couldn't quite make it out at this distance, but he thought perhaps one of the hulking shapes in the distance might be old, rusted machinery. It was too dark to see, even for his vision.

He didn't have time to look around. Tatsumi was moving him again, and even if he couldn't quite reach Vincent’s chaotic abilities, Tatsumi could certainly influence. "Call him forth," Tatsumi ordered. "Otherwise..."

He let the threat hang in the air. Vincent hated him all the more, but had no choice but to turn to Cid. He had managed to suppress Bahamut from taking over Cid's soul outright; they had fused into one, but with Cid's psyche so badly damaged from mako addiction, it was all he could do to hold back the transformation this long. He unwound his magic from around the materia, letting the summoning that had begun when the two had been joined finally complete.

The familiar summoning glyphs appeared around Cid, centered on the materia embedded in his body, and swirls of magic extended from him in thick coils, ripping apart anything in their path. Within moments, they had closed into a cocoon around the pilot, and then changed into pure energy that expanded up and out, like it was stretching its limbs. The light was so bright that even Vincent had to turn and shield his eyes for a moment, mirroring Tatsumi, and only when it faded could he look back at the summoned dragon.

It was Bahamut, that much was certain, but he had never seen Bahamut take any form like this one. His scales were the brightest of blues, like the sky on a cloudless day, and yet when he shifted they seemed darker than any night. There was red and gold along his wings, all three pairs of them, and his thick tail was bladed and ridged at the tip, looking sharper than any of Cloud's swords. There were parts of him that were familiar — the shape of his wings, the sharp angle of his jaw — but Vincent had never seen this particular summon before.

Then his eyes widened. Tatsumi had mentioned fusing summon materia — he had fused the _Bahamut_ materia together, all of the ones AVALANCHE had collected. And as much as he hated the man, Vincent had to admit it might be the only reason Cid had survived the fusion. There had only ever been one Bahamut, after all; he simply appeared to them in different forms, depending on which materia someone used to summon him. He was the king of dragons; his power was far too vast to be held in one materia.

Until one mad scientist had dared to do just that.

Vincent could feel the sheer power in the summon, and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Tatsumi had no idea what he was in for. The scientist looked _thrilled_ , already scribbling something in a notepad and muttering to himself about the results of the fusion, but Vincent could feel the the summon orienting himself and realizing that he had not been called down to destroy a foe.

"Human," King Bahamut rumbled.

Vincent had never heard a summon actually _speak_ before — there were legends about it, and of course summons were intelligent, but they never bothered actually communicating with humans anymore. He stared up at the dragon in flat disbelief, not sure which of them the summon was talking to.

Unfortunately, King Bahamut's gaze settled on him. "Why have I been joined with a lowly human?" the summon demanded, spreading his wings wide. Vincent suddenly wished he had his gun. "Why have you summoned me? I see no foe!"

" _Foe?_ This is just a test!" Tatsumi shouted. He tightened the Manipulate spell on Vincent. "Chaos, subdue him!"

Vincent's eyes glittered. Tatsumi could control his body all he wanted, but he had no power over the dragon. Only its summoner did.

"Kill him," Vincent ordered.

"Wha— I am your _master!_ You cannot disobey me! I will become a g—"

Tatsumi didn't even have time to run. The summon crushed him beneath his claw, pulverizing his bones with a sickening crunch. Vincent relished every second of it, feeling his body come back under his control.

What he didn't expect was for King Bahamut to turn on _him_.

The bladed tail lashed out at him so fast that it was only the Galian Beast's instincts that saved him from being speared on its end. Vincent leapt into the air, changing into Chaos's form instinctively — if King Bahamut was willing to turn on his summoner, then he had no hope of communicating with the dragon while in his human form.

But not even the sight of the demon stopped the summon. "Unbind me!" he roared, spreading his wings out wide and filling the space with his massive body. The room was just barely tall enough for the summon, but Vincent doubted that would stop him from attacking. "I will not bear a _human_ as my host! Dismiss me!"

Vincent kept his distance, but he flew higher, so that he was eye level with the dragon. "I can't," he started. "He's—"

He didn't get the chance to explain. King Bahamut exploded with rage, moving towards him as fast as he could in the confined space. The dragon’s wings were of no use here, but once he closed them back against his body, he had much more mobility to strike with. His tail shot out faster than lightning, and even though Vincent flew as fast as he could to evade the blows, he could just barely avoid it.

And then came his claws.

It was no wonder why King Bahamut had never been summoned upon the planet before — surely he had been deemed too powerful like this, if he could keep up with a WEAPON without even using most of his magic. Vincent didn't want to think about how fast the summon would be if they were in the open air and he had use of all six wings. It was hard enough flying out of reach like this.

Worst of all, he couldn't fight _back_. Not without knowing what could happen to Cid. Vincent could heal most any wound he suffered while in his Chaos form, but he couldn't risk the same of Cid. Not when they were so far below Junon, hours from aid. If he wasn't careful, his chaotic energy would shred the summon like it was nothing, and leave Cid a mangled mess — and the last thing he could be with an enraged dragon after him was _careful_.

Vincent darted beneath King Bahamut's claws and dove underneath the dragon, narrowly missing its tail as it whipped around, trying to snag the WEAPON as he soared past. He had no choice — he had to dissolve the spell calling the summon to take form. It was a gamble, because if he went too far he could consume their very souls, but it was that or risk King Bahamut finding a way to break out of here.

The damage Edge had sustained from Bahamut SIN’s attack was nothing compared to what King Bahamut could do. Junon would be reduced to rubble.

Vincent gritted his fanged teeth and flew to the other side of the massive hangar, surrounding himself with a chaotic barrier. It wouldn't hold King Bahamut off for long, especially not if he tried to use one of his flares against him, but it would have to be enough. He could already see the dragon charging as he sent out a pulse, digging deep into the summon's soul to find the materia at its core. Cid was still in there, he could _feel_ him, and he pulled on him as hard as he could, fighting to keep the chaotic nature of his power at bay. For once, he didn't _want_ to consume everything, didn't want to see the world melt into one tumultuous mess before he led it to the Lifestream — he just wanted to pull Cid out of the nightmare and into the light. It wasn't his place, not as a WEAPON, not as a demon, but as a friend, it was the only thing he _could_ do.

King Bahamut was tearing at his barrier, magic-laced claws already making cracks in it, and Vincent yanked harder on Cid's soul, trying to pull it free of the cast summon. He could feel his own energy draining, but he kept at it, desperate to pull Cid back to his own body—

_Vince?_

It was faint, it was weak but it was _Cid_ , and that was all Vincent needed. The spell broke at his touch, and King Bahamut withdrew his claws, that same bright light enveloping him and slowly growing smaller. When at last it faded, the body of Cid Highwind laid on the ground, unconscious but unquestionably alive.

Vincent sank to the ground beside him, and let darkness take him.


	16. cleanup crew.

It had been so long since Vincent had lost consciousness that it took a good few minutes for him to realize that the sensation he was feeling was _waking up_. He felt groggy and a little drained, but most of his chaotic energy had recollected back inside him. It had taken so much focus to dissolve the spell binding Cid that keeping _himself_ going had simply fallen to the wayside.

_Cid._

He sent out a pulse even before he turned to look, relieved when he felt the thrum of magic beside him. It was much stronger now than ever before; he'd have to get used to what Cid felt like now. His soul had always been bright, but he _shone_ now, like a beacon against his own darkness. It was Bahamut's influence, he knew, but Vincent couldn't help but think that a lot of it was still Cid.

He frowned as he looked over the unconscious man beside him. Cid was still out, and didn't show any signs of stirring, but that wasn't what bothered him. No, it was the fact that Cid's body had changed now that the summon had settled inside his soul. It had been a possibility, but Vincent hadn't wanted to think about it. Now it seemed he had no choice.

The pilot's right arm, from his elbow and below, was no longer human. Instead, it was covered in scales, precisely the same color as King Bahamut's, and his fingers ended in jagged claws. Vincent sighed, reaching out with taloned fingers to study the deformity. 

So Cid would have to suffer his fate. He hid his own demon's arm under his gauntlet, allowing those around him to form their own conclusions about it. Some, he was sure, believed it to be only a prosthetic. Sometimes he wished they were right.

He studied the rest of Cid's body, checking for any other changes. He wasn't surprised to find fangs in Cid's mouth -- Vincent had his own, though he'd learned how to retract them not long ago -- and there were a pair of ridges on his back, where Vincent expected a pair of wings would emerge. Possibly more than one, considering what he had just seen. He doubted Cid would have any kind of control over them any time soon, though.

No, what mattered now was getting him out of here. Tatsumi's body was a crumpled heap on the floor, and Vincent pulled himself to his feet, striding over to it with a look of distaste. He sensed no life force left in the man, but he had no desire to let something this vile return to the Lifestream. He spread his left hand, shooting one enormous pulse of chaotic energy at the body and swallowing it whole.

Let his demons feast on _that_.

The materia he would return to the Lifestream; he could only imagine how much mako Tatsumi had stolen from the Planet for his experiments. Vincent seethed. He was going to destroy everything this man had ever made, every record he'd ever kept, and ensure that no one ever dared to replicate his work. He would _never_ let this happen again.

He would bear the sin of letting it happen once for the rest of his eternal life.

\---

Cid didn't stir when Vincent carried him back to the main lab. Vincent wasn't sure just how bad off he would be, but if Tatsumi Hojo was anything like his father, he would have kept copious notes on his subject's state during the course of his experiments. With any luck, there would be some indication of what to expect. 

Vincent himself didn't have much experience with mako addiction; if he had suffered from it, it hadn't lasted long, or he simply didn't remember. His memories of that time were too vague to recall anything of use, and he didn't much want to try probing through them. He'd have to take Tatsumi's files for himself and try to make sense of them, and destroy everything else.

Thankfully, it seemed he'd kept everything on paper. It appeared that with so much power diverted to the stasis tube holding Cid for all those months and Tatsumi's materia fusion, he hadn't bothered with digitizing his files. Vincent set about to sorting everything he found relevant, and burned anything that didn't. He'd manage otherwise, he decided.

The materia was a bigger problem. Some of his fused materia Vincent was happy to destroy on sight -- the sheer number of Clone materia Tatsumi had in storage was enough to make him want to crawl back in his coffin -- but the rest formed a sizable cache that Vincent honestly didn't know what to do with. He could simply return it to the Lifestream, and let the planet heal, but he had to admit that there was some value in the work those materia researchers were doing. If they could figure something out that could really help the planet, and maybe even let go of some of their pride in the process... Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to help them out.

He could keep it, Vincent supposed. It wasn't like he was going anywhere, and if it helped the planet, he was willing to give it a shot.

What horrified him, though, was the set of summon materia he found. Tatsumi hadn't been bluffing. He had every single summon materia AVALANCHE had collected in its travels, from the simple Choco-Mog spirit to the mighty Knights of the Round they had found on a forgotten island. Either the Cid clone had collected it, or there was another clone out there that Vincent would have to deal with. Vincent wasn't sure which possibility he liked least.

Tatsumi had to have had some way to track them, he thought. He'd replaced the first one quickly enough. Vincent frowned and made his way back through the lab. Most of the equipment was unfamiliar to him, and would have been even if he _wasn't_ thirty years out of date. He really was going to have to get up to speed with these things, he thought grimly.

But the only equipment he could find seemed to be for creating materia or for the stasis tube, and Vincent was lost. Tatsumi had thought of everything; there was no way he _hadn't_ thought of this. He'd been smart enough to have a spell ready to control him the moment he walked through the door, why not--

_A materia._

Vincent went back to the materia cache immediately, looking through it for any sign of materia he wasn't familiar with. He'd already been over it all once before, though, and not found anything other than the fused materia he'd already dealt with... 

A cold realization swept over him. He'd already destroyed the most dangerous materia. Everything he hadn't recognized or hadn't been able to identify, he had simply unmade and returned to the Lifestream. Whatever spell Tatsumi had been using was long gone.

And Vincent didn't have the slightest idea how to make another one. He'd burned the notes pertaining to materia fusion, after all. He'd planned to destroy the equipment.

Vincent cursed so vehemently that if he wasn't passed out across the room, Cid would've been proud.

There was nothing he could do. If there was another clone out there, he'd just have to destroy it. For now, he had to get Cid out of here and make sure no one ever found this place.

Vincent picked up one of the Fire materia from the cache, then thought better of it and reached for the Contain. Flare would do nicely, he thought.

\---

There was a set of clothes for Cid in one of the adjoining rooms. Vincent tried not to think too hard about how it had gotten there. It was still hard enough to realize just how _long_ Cid had been down here without anyone even knowing he was gone. A thousand deaths would never be enough for Hojo, Vincent thought, and tried to take comfort in the fact he'd killed as many of them as he could. Maybe this would be the last one.

Then again, he'd thought that last time. He'd have to be more thorough this time.

He was glad Cid had always had a habit of wearing elbow-length gloves. It didn't quite cover the scales of his arm all the way, but it was enough that Vincent would be able to hide it from any wandering eyes. Carrying Cid and everything he'd recovered from the lab was going to be a trial, but it was one Vincent accepted gladly. He wouldn't risk anyone finding this place. It didn't matter how much he trusted the WRO or Veld and his Turks. 

_No one_ could ever find this place.

After so long underground, the heat of the Flare spell was welcome.

\---

When he finally made it high enough that he had a cell signal, Vincent found that he had a number of messages. He frowned. Apparently his unconscious spell had lasted much longer than he'd originally thought. It was now a good two days after he'd gone after the clone, and he had not only Cissnei and Veld calling to check on him, but Reeve as well.

He weighed his options. The Turks would provide him sanctuary, and Veld would understand the need for secrecy, but it would simply make Reeve worry all the more. That was the real trouble with AVALANCHE: they never knew when to take a hint. Sometimes people needed to deal with things on their own. They would all be concerned for Cid, and want to help him recover, but no one would really _understand_ him.

No one but Vincent.

He'd never felt this protective over someone before. Vincent knew part of it -- probably a big part -- was the guilt he felt over not being able to stop it from happening in the first place, but it was more than that. The truth was that he didn't want Cid to be seen as a monster the way Vincent was. Vincent didn't really mind it about himself, considering it was the truth -- he had demons inside of him, after all -- but the pilot was nothing but a victim of a madman with delusions of godhood. He didn't deserve the same treatment.

It was probably guilt, Vincent thought. But he'd try anyway. He owed it to Cid.

He set the pilot down against a wall, careful not to hurt him, and dialed Reeve's number. If there was anyone who could make the rest of AVALANCHE understand, it would be him.

\---

Despite knowing the man for almost four years, Vincent had never spent that much time in Reeve's company. Between the Deepground incident and Cid's kidnapping, this was the most contact he'd ever had with him. The former had been a difficult time, to put it lightly, but Vincent had never seen Reeve look quite like this. His skin had gone ashen when Vincent entered with Cid, and even after he laid Cid down on the couch in Reeve's office, the man couldn't seem to look away.

"Planet, Vincent," he said finally. "What-- what _happened_ to him?"

The simplest explanation, Vincent had decided on the way up, was also the most truthful. "Hojo happened."

Reeve looked like he was going to be ill. Vincent assumed that he hadn't really processed what Cid would come back like until he actually saw the man in the flesh. He decided getting the facts out would keep things easy. "I took care of him and destroyed his lab. No one will ever find it."

Reeve nodded, distracted. "Good. That's-- thank you, Vincent." He reached out towards Cid, hesitant, but there was no reaction from the pilot at his touch. "We have to get him to the hospital."

"No."

"What-- _no?_ " Reeve stared at him, not understanding. "Vincent, he needs a doctor. Who knows what's been done to him?"

" _I_ know," Vincent said, and though he kept his voice level, it was clear he wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Doctors aren't going to help him. All they'll want to do is _study_ him. I'm not letting that happen."

Reeve's expression softened. Vincent could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "Vincent, the WRO isn't like that," he started. "We'll give him the best possible care--"

"I said _no_."

"I know you're worried for him, but I promise, the doctors we have are nothing like--"

Vincent ignored him and reached for Cid's right arm. He tugged the glove down a few inches, showing him the scales. He wouldn't show him the rest, but from the way Reeve looked down at Cid's hand, he knew he'd gotten his point across.

"What did he _do?_ " Reeve said, staring at the inhuman arm.

"Something that can't be undone. No matter how much your researchers look. All you'd be doing is giving him false hope."

"We can't just _give up_ on him! There has to be a way! Vincent!" Reeve turned to him, frustrated and still not understanding. "You can't just decide this for him!"

"And you _can?_ " Vincent shot back.

He'd already made his decision, but Vincent hadn't realized just how hard he was going to have to fight for this. Even so, it didn't make him back down in the least. He would never turn Cid over to Reeve and his doctors. _Never_. He could already see them poking and prodding at him, sending him through test after test, until they pushed too far and ended up with a volatile summon on their hands. He could never let that happen. _Never_.

He strode forward, standing between the commissioner and the unconscious pilot. "He has mako poisoning. You remember what happened to Cloud. There's nothing _doctors_ can do for him -- he needs time to recover. On his own, away from anything that could send him back into his mind." He glowered at Reeve. "Cid has been held captive in a laboratory for months. He can't recover if he's trapped in a hospital, waiting for a cure that will never come. He needs time to process what's been done to him, without the world interfering."

Reeve didn't look happy, but Vincent knew the argument's logic had gotten through to him. The man simply couldn't help but react the way he knew how -- to him, it made sense to react with doctors and hospitals, to seek out a cure through science rather than to trust in someone else. Finally, he sighed and stepped back.

"I'm not going to pretend I like it. I know you're hiding things, Vincent. But what's important here is what's best for Cid. And if this means he'll recover..." Reeve looked back at the pilot.

"He will," Vincent said. "You have my word."

Reeve's eyes narrowed. "I _will_ hold you to that."

Vincent didn't doubt it. He knew he had Reeve's trust, but Reeve wasn't a man who liked secrets, and especially not when they dealt with the people he considered under his protection. As his friend and a part of the WRO, Cid fell under that umbrella. Vincent could understand the sentiment -- it just wasn't convenient right now.

"Where will you go?" Reeve asked. "Rocket Town? I can arrange a transport."

Vincent shook his head. "Too many people. The entire town will be asking after their captain. Cid will need privacy to recover."

Reeve frowned. "Where, then?"

Vincent's answer was simple. "Home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I have no plans at this time to publish the sequel to this fic.
> 
> In 2013, I replayed FF7 for the first time in years and rediscovered my love for the game and the characters, and in the space of a month wrote this fic and most of its sequel. In the two years since, I've found that while I still really like Vincent and Cid a lot, I don't like them in the same ways I did when I was 17. Turns out your tastes can change a lot over the years, and rewriting that fic you came up with in high school isn't always the best idea!
> 
> I'm still very interested in writing FF7 fic -- and have spent much of the past two years doing just that -- but I don't see myself coming back to this particular story again anytime soon, if at all. I had a lot of great ideas for it, but I no longer have the drive needed to turn those ideas into a great fic.
> 
> In the meantime, though, I encourage you to check out [dead end](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4827128/chapters/11055080), a fic I wrote recently that focuses on Vincent and Cid. It's very different from this story, but I think you might like it if you liked this fic. And I hope that soon I'll be able to start posting the fic I've been working on for the past year, which is an ensemble story that features the two of them in large roles.


End file.
